One syllable at a time…

One, two, three little letters filling the spaces in between words. Like voices whispering to fit in to sentences just wanting be heard. Playing a game of opening up. From the good to bad, to simplify us. Witnessed on the teeter of the sensitivities of mental stability. Hiding nothing from the awareness of insecurities. Pushing self outward through the cracks so self can be seen. With the if and or to relate in a confessional piece. Conversation loosens to the flow of? Me, you, contemplating lust. To comprehend how thoughts interact. Gathering the gestures of awkwardness lingering in the left over fragments from a past. Attempting to find what interests align with who are. As honesty turns on the charm. I’d in the details of how tons come together to make sense. So the mind doesn’t havta shield the heart from all the fake suspense. In the arrangement of the alphabet in its simplest form. One syllable sounds create a harmony worth the chords. Like a heartbeat that allows life to move. Listening to talk with precession is the glue. Never to confuse a like minded friend willing to grant someone access to who they have become. On the beginning it’s the sound of lessons slidting down the tongue. Eating the bodies language confirm what to be said. Spoken in a tone that’ll live in the head. With a handful of fillers like, yes, I’m, in, the, now. Engaging in eyes connecting like, wow…