The Taste of Your Words

Can we make a trade,
my words for yours? Not
just a conversation; we don’t
need words to speak. We have brief
glances that transform the air around us
into longing. We have the brush of your
finger against my skin until it tingles with
anticipation. We have a shared language
that lives inside our love. One look
from you conveys the depth of your
desire for me, but I want something more.
Is that selfish of me? That I want to
take your words and swallow them whole,
turning them over inside
my mouth like pieces of candy?
I want to taste your every word, savor
the flesh that exists behind your words.
I want to run my finger along the lid of your
intention until I know everything there is to know
about you. Will you be my teacher, teach
me the history of you? Did your mother ever force
you to sit at the table until all your vegetables were
gone? Did you rush home after school to watch
the evening cartoons? Did you sit at the kitchen table
most nights to study? Did you swell with pride when your
mom would look over your report card? When your dad
took you with him in the car, did you swing your feet
or were your feet able to touch the floor? Did you look
for me underwater when you went to the swimming
pool? Did you lie in the bed and dream our love into
existence? When you stood in front of the mirror
getting ready for school, did you search for me in
your own eyes as you looked toward the future?
Did you walk past vivid flowers that fill the air with their
aroma and imagine bringing me a bunch of wildflowers?
You knew didn’t you? You always knew that
forever would be birthed by inevitability and that our destined
meeting would turn into a lifetime spent exchanging
my words for yours. And that sometimes I’d hold onto your
words, making no exchange. Sometimes I want to just hold
your words like I’m holding you. Sometimes no words at all
would be needed to say, I love you. But still we would
because it’s true. I love you and I have since the day
I stood holding those words on my tongue, wondering if it
was too soon, but you saw the truth in my eyes. And, for us,
that was just the beginning.

Peace & Love,
Rosalind

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About Rosalind Guy

I'm broken & my soul is weary/ my weary soul rebels, fights/ anything & anyone who tries to heal me/I beat my head against a wall of memories/ trying hard to break free from the chain of memories/ I can only be free by saying it so/ i weave a necklace from words and finally/ I find freedom/ free free free. As you can see, words are powerful to me. As Maya Angelou said, words are wallpaper of the soul. I have lots of nightmarish memories that threaten to break me, but I learned a long time ago about the power of words. They can be used to heal and destroy anything that threatens to destroy the person. Words coupled with love have the power to save and heal. I am author of three books: Skinny Dipping in the Pool of Womanhood, Tattered Butterfly Wings, and Blues of a Love Junkie. I am a high school English teacher. I am a former reporter. I am a mother. I am a woman. I am a fierce advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves, those who's voices go unheard. Check out my Amazon author page at the following link: http://www.amazon.com/Rosalind-Guy/e/B00BGH5F88/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1432491754&sr=8-1.
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