And so it happened again last night.
I was jealous.
I read your words again; the way it free falls line after line. You write these words or the keys do it for you, i wonder. Do you sit quietly in a corner of a long forgotten Coffee shop and write these words? Or in a crowded alley, where you spy on the conversations and get inspired?
Tell me, will you?
I am jealous.
Jealous of all the lives you write about.
Jealous of all the conversations you have had.
Jealous of all the things you care enough to write.
Jealous of all the eyes that read your words;
Write to me, will you?
Write me things you were too shy to say.
Write me things that will make me blush.
Write me words that are irresistible.
Write to me the way you write about her.
Will you?