She’s never easy to write about. Maybe at one time these pages were what brought her to me, but now no word is ever good enough. As if she would expect more than I could give, and even if that’s not the case I’d hate to let her down. Sometimes I get these feelings that rush through my body just hearing her talk-- like they want to explode through my finger tips and grab her and never let go. Sometimes it’s so much it’s hard to breath. So I only have these simple terms to try and convey any of these feelings, but none seem close enough. More percisely, when I see her face I feel like an army is tromping through my veins and my stomach may cave in due to the time bomb left inside. She’s the drug I’m constantly left feining for. ”I’ll sell my kidneys on the black market my love just to have one more taste.” Shoot her through me, just do what it takes.. I’ll do anything for this. So in this constant search to find any possible mean to communicate these affections my mind once again is barren. I’ve tried a thousand times before to write anything of meaning, anything that might make her experience what I was trying to express. But.. nothing. My pen traces over the paper, until ultimately I throw it away and begin anew until there is nothing left but a waste basket over flowing of mispent words. Next time it wont be so hard when I rip my heart from my chest and throw it against the paper. the way the blood would drip would prove more than any pen could ever write. She’s not easy to write about. Maybe one day I will find the words.