Her voice was quick and slow, graceful and clumsy, raising in power and softer than silk can ever be in the best way possible.
Each word was meant as strongly as the phrases before. Each tangent just as interesting as the previous subject.
The way she stalls and moves her hands to find the perfect words or seems to dismiss them with a flick of a finger has me entranced.
Her speech gains speed and a sparkle forms in her eye as she passionately debates to opened ears, before slowing down and glancing down and lips turning down in dissatisfaction of her blank mind.
She put me in a trance with every intense talk we shared.
Yet, the writing of those hands that was conveying such fluid emotion makes words and phrases and letters that hardly call themselves attention unless you dare to look their way.
A person so amazing can not be understood through their scribbles.
Voices can't be heard through the thin walls of paper and graphite.
YOU ARE READING
3 am Thoughts.
RandomOnly read if you want to. I swear I'm not this crazy all the time. Just a few times a week.
