Committed.

The longest relationship I’ve ever been in is the one I’m in with words.

The words come to me without condition and hardly ever ask very much of me.

I doodle them onto steamy bathroom mirrors and car windows. Carve them into the frost, think them onto the page.

I see them in clouds and read them on people.

I fight with them. Sing them. Scream and whisper them. Write them.

I see through them.

I keep them for myself and sometimes even lock them away. I speak them into the heart of another, often leaving them behind.

The words have held me and understood me.

Listened to me.

Looked into my depths without judgement and stayed close even when I was sure I didn’t need them.

But I’ve always needed them – I’ll always need them. They’re the truest parts of me after all.

The words are what I’m always missing even as they sit at the edge of my mind, the tip of my tongue.

Unspoken, unwritten.