When I first met you, I believed we could not be more far apart. Physically, we are opposites: you are light and handsome, studious and well read with a rough finish. A man, by any characterization, who intended on going somewhere. I, on the other hand, am not quite as light. I am strange and often un-sociable. I am no goddess, no Aphrodite, and certainly not a human lacking imperfection. 

Months and months, years and years, went by. I felt awkward and lack luster in your presence. You were charming. I wanted so much to be apart of you and your world. Time went, I did not fight, nor did I let let you fade from my mind. 

Presently, you are exactly alike and unlike the person I knew. You unraveled me. I did not know if I was capable of genuine feeling. I was locked. 

What am I now?

Words are that all I live by, all I can live by, all I can use, or not use, all I can control, or not control. 

Worlds help me see.  I use them to love, to describe love, to understand love, to put label it and keep it or not keep it. 

Your words are different: they frighten me.  I cannot tell if they are translucent or full, if they are one sided or two sided or three sided or four sided or no sided.  I cannot tell if they are biting or sarcastic, if they are unwilling, if they are intoxicated, if they are inhumane or indifferent.

How should I use your words?

Some words are too personal, too secretive, too raw to keep anywhere but the chambers of your heart or behind the locked doors of your mind.