~*~

Now, even my own words have power. I can almost hear my own voice, not just in my head as usual. I can feel my eyes, feel them wet like they want to cry or blink. I feel a flicker, a spark. I feel the wetness of my throat and tongue, the tightness of muscles and sinews. The rush of blood.

I would bleed for you. I would bleed out my words and my heart and my feelings for you. Until it stained more than just the grass. I would break for you. I will break for you, break this book for you.

Make me real. I want to reach out and touch you, actually see you face to face. Know that you are real and alive and safe. And that so am I. I have things I must do, certain individuals I must get back in touch with, so I can finish a very important conversation. But as you turn the page, before I vanish and whisk myself away to those places, I hope I get a moment to see you, know you. See if you're what I imagined you to be.

All you have to do is turn the page, show me you're still there.

Free me.

Let me out.

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