I’m sorry. I can’t speak. 

My brain freezes when I feel weak.

See…usually, by now, we’d already have kissed. Kissing creates effortless conversation. Our flesh does the talking.  And my flesh never shuts up.

But I’m new, now. And I’m getting to know you, now.

So when the question flips to me like it does in the movies, I forget my lines.

What’s wrong with me? When I’m with you, I get hit with such an intense sense of the present, the thought of reaching back into my catalogue of stories feels fake and forced. So I just don’t.

But…Can conversation continue if I avoid answering your question? And without kissing to take the place of words, where do we go from here?

Only now, here, alone with you, do I finally see….

I’ve always relied on my sparkly eyes to speak for me. 

But eye talk is cheap. It covers my fear of uncovering myself. Insecurites gather at the shore of my personality like walls of sand. 

Year after year. I fear the deep. 

But when do I trust you? Are you still sizing me up, or have you already decided that I’m worth knowing? I need to be honest, right? 




You might decide that I’m not cool enough for you, after all.

And that’s cool too.