The burgeoning story.

I've been carrying around a story in my head for a while now.
Not a short story, as in a few pages and it's done. No... this is much longer than that. It's patiently been humming in the back of my brain. I've been ignoring it. But now its kicking against the bars of my mind.
I can't neglect it much longer. It's burning a hole in my pocket. I can feel it tingling on the tips of my fingers.
It wants to be told!

It's like carrying around a mouthful of water. I know I shall either have to spit it out or swallow it. Swallowing it would be the coward's way out. I know I'm going to have to spit it out. Soon. And it will be so relieving!

But till then, I am holding it close to me, not wanting to let it go yet. Why, I wonder? I think because I am afraid it shall disappoint me. I am afraid that it will cheapen and lose its lustre in the harsh light of reality.
Also, I'm in the midst of two other stories. One I am at a standstill with. The second I have been nursing for about a year. They are both technically on back burners already...

Hm... I think this story is about to get its long deserved turn at front and center in my literary efforts.

I wish I could make you understand...

I want to make you feel what I'm feeling,
See what I'm seeing.
But my emotions can't be expressed.
I try to tell you things but my words seem to trip over each other in the excitement to tell of their joy.
Sometimes they falter and shrink back when I reach for them.
In desperation I try to capture my elusive thoughts of the intangible things around me.
Only to have the beautiful things I want to say evade me.
I can merely articulate vaguely and hope you'll understand.
Do you understand?
I want you to understand more than anything
I dream that you may someday know what's in my mind,
See the wheels that are turning,
Feel life in what I say.
Making the connection is hard... I won't stop trying though.
There's a beauty in this endeavor,
Even I don't fully understand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I always wished I could write. I have, too... lots of things. But they're not like I want them. I feel them all in my heart... beautiful things that sing. But when I want to put them down on paper, it seems they're like little wild things... they're gone."
-Excerpt from The Rim of the Prairie by Bess Streeter Aldrich

Whispered Words

“Words taste better when they’re whispered.”
You tell me, almost confidingly, as we lay on the bed.
A book lays open in front of you… waiting.
I smile in anticipation and then you begin.
Each sentence you speak is like a secret that hangs in the air or tickles in my ear.
Letters form a trickle down your lips and fall into a puddle of ideas and thoughts.
Your voice gets softer; it slowly caresses every word then lets it free.
I close my eyes and lie in the sound of the spell you weave.
Your whispers are so quiet now I’m sure each murmur will be your last.
Your reading is never uneven or stilted, but smooth;
Silky ribbons that wrap around me,
A ship that is gently rocking…..
When your voice fades away I am not aware.
Nor do I see your smile as you carefully wrap your arms around me; the sleeping form that lies beside you…who was lulled to sleep by your whispered words.