She decides to stick with words. Not because she isn't good at the other things but because the words chose her. The words speak in her brain like the voice of someone else. She considers giving the articulate voice a name but why when she wants it to be only her own and with a new name, the voice takes on an individual identity. And with so much freedom, wouldn't you leave- like an adolescent, defiant yet powerful when fully aroused? She believes it would, and she can't free it just yet. Those chains will forever entomb that voice until the dreams darken and the urges fade.
I can't help but find every thing she does- every sad smile or demure inking of rosy spindles circulating and twining around the freckles on the apples of her cheeks- impossibly endearing. I long to kiss her lips, her bottom one that is slightly chapped and puffs out when she's deep in thought. She knows nothing of my innocent lust, the dreams she occupies, the brilliance she encompasses in those hands of hers- so miniature and lithe and artistic. I sit beside her as she doodles meaninglessly around the few notes she's taken of the lecture droning just out of ear reach. If only she knew how much she draws me in with her calculated silence. If only she were just a little closer... I love you.
- The secretly mushy inner dialogue of Jacob Chambers [Canvases]
Current obsession: Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, and all their witty banter and love.