Hiding where only the shy can find me. What shy eyes say that words can’t. Those are the words she longs for. Words like “stay”. Words like “yes, I do.” Words that mean, “You’re beautiful”, without ever needing to say so. Those words. Words that hide in a cup of peppermint tea, a glass of red wine. Words that even silence can’t bear to touch.

I found my words curled up behind your ear, nesting in the evening of your hair. I felt them folded underneath your breast. Your words seek the unseen as it aches to be seen. Your words are tangled up in afternoon breezes, windchimes, skin. You are so far. Let these words make what we cannot. Love.

Love is a blindfold, or is it words. Where are you.

I am the jingle in your pocket you think are keys. I am the whisper on your earlobe that is the breeze. I am in the unthought thought. The unsaid goodbye, the dry eye. I am the yesterday that refuses to leave. The tomorrow that does not come.

The tomorrow that does not come is the never that forever arrives, and love knows well this wild ride. So throw away your maps. This love has no destination. The journey is all. We leave in the morning, shy girl. Let us leave as soon as the first robin begins to sing, not before. And let us not wait for it to finish its song.

(To shy girls everywhere: you are the one that I want.)

*This post is a compliation of a series of tweets back and forth between @mentalexotica & Olivia Dresher. You can follow her on Twitter (and you really should) @OliviaDresher and have a look at her blog: http://www.OliviaDresher.com