Why I Write

I think I write because I don't know what to say. I write because I don't know how to talk to you. I change what I write scratch it out and erase it. I can't take back the things I say. When I talk, I talk too fast and don't think. When I write, it's slow and controlled. When I talk to you, it's like I'm kissing you for the first time it's scary and quick, rushed. Writing to you is like kissing you softly in the morning, habitual and natural, not stuttering and not thinking twice. I know how to move my pen better than I know how to move my own lips. But I think you understand, somehow. So, thank you, for letting me stumble when I speak, and appreciating my spoken words just as much as my written ones.