Compulsion

I often have the compulsion to speak my mind, but spoken words give me the chance to stumble.
So whether or not I release them into another's ears is all up to the mood of the moment.
Generally, they flow out of my fingertips to keys like these in hopes that I'll make sense of them someday.
Then, sometimes, they float from my brain into the clouds and make a home for themselves among the rest of the pollution.

The reason, tonight, for my insistant babble is that these words refuse to be spoken like so oft they are.
But my brain won't release them.
"Not this time," it told me.
So I'm forced by my steadfast brain to push these thoughts out through my fingers and into the social swirling critique of whomever is reading this.
Here goes.

I adore you.
Your bright smile and your ocean eyes are pleasantly the most haunting vision in my mind.
I can still hear your voice ringing through my head like the day's last birdsong.
If I never see you again, know that I will always love you.
I cherish your words of wisdom, your sweet tone, and your laugh lines.
Your cologne still waves through my nose in passing.
I love you.