And then. . .

as a writer i should have words. on paper i have words. i can write many words. some may be misspelled, but i have them. on the phone i have words. not always the correct ones, but i have words. in person i have no words. i point at things and gesture with my hands. i forget that people can't read my mind and also that i have only said the words in my head and not actually spoken them aloud. my mouth does not work. my thoughts move too quickly even for me to follow, and my act on impulse is magnified by one hundred. phrases and things that only i myself can put together and understand into a comprehend able statement are what fall from my mouth.  in person i am a writer that has no words.

Lipogram in C I see many things. I see the sea as it breathes In and out along the sand.  Inhaling and exhaling.  Slowly Deliberately The sand is stroked by the moving sea and I see as the two lovers indulge As we gaze with unknowing eyes As we see as the sea and the sand love one another before our eyes. 

The sun was streaming in through long sun yellow drapes. I laid with my back towards the window the weight of his body making me sink further into the red overstuffed cushions. My chest was his pillow and his arms cradled the side of my body. We were both turned towards the T.V. watching 3:10 to Yuma. I didn't like westerns, but he insisted it was a great movie. I was beginning to dose when I felt his lips against mine. "You're not supposed to be sleeping, you're supposed to be watching the movie," he mumbled against my lips. "But I'm so comfortable." I nuzzled his bottom lip with my own. "You watch the movie, I'll take a little nap," I said stifling a yawn. I scooted further down on the couch. The curve of my back becoming parallel with the couch. His long legs hung over the arm rest, but he stayed where he was. I ran my fingers up the back of his shaggy brown hair and  let them rest on his neck. I could feel my eyes beginnin...