As a writer, or at the very least a self-proclaimed writer, I tend to pride myself in my ability to articulate my thoughts in a somewhat understandable and, perhaps more importantly, relatable manner.  And we being two peas in a pod, I've felt myself at liberty to share those thoughts with you, which, if I shared them with anyone else, would be misconstrued and mishandled in the untrained brain of an impossible amateur who simply does not care to think deeply.  I'm glad I can share my thoughts with you and have a free-flowing stream of conscious thought between our two brains.  But whenever you’re not around and I've thought of something rather impossible to communicate, I'd rather not say it out loud and thus stain the air, followed by that all-too-familiar deer-in-the-headlights stare of, "What did you just say?" And then the resulting look of resentful judgment that tells me I'm a fool for sharing my irrelevant opinions.  But I try not to let that faze me. Words and ideas and opinions are too precious to remain unuttered forever, otherwise they are lost in the backburner of my brain.  But there are three words that I cannot forget yet cannot bring myself to vocalize.  Or even write, for that matter.

Three impossible words.

Every time I gaze into the twin oceans that are your eyes, those words beg to be set free.  I force my tongue to be silent, lest it seek to betray me.  I feel these words emblazoned on my forehead and rolling down my throat and settling in my stomach.

“What are you trying to say?”
Glad you asked.
Three impossible, stigmatized, battered, completely insane, wonderful, happy, terrifying, electrifying, storm-bursting, stupid little words that I can’t force myself to say but that I struggle so hard to keep down.

Um…”You please me.”  I guess that works for now.