I am rarely caught off guard for a word. I account for this skill from whatever place also made me, in a past form, an effective liar. Creative fearlessness makes words flow easily. As one embraces honesty, however, free flowing words must become more careful.
Somehow I have held onto the flow while letting go of the artifice. To accomplish this, I have surrendered some tact. My reputation is for stating truths clearly, sometimes bluntly. I do so not out of arrogance or carelessness, but out of necessity. Once I begin speaking untruths, I am not sure where they will end.
Matters of love are a complication. I am capable of expressing my truest, deepest feelings with ease and affect. If faced with resistance, however, I am quick to reroute my intentions. Upon reflection, I cannot tell if my mood darkens because of that resistance or the artful retreats I make.
Only in love are our feelings and expressions alone not enough. Delicate words spoken on uninviting ears explode like a crystal glass dropped on a stone floor. The shards splatter. Blood from them flow sometimes weeks later. It is in such moments I wish my words could stumble and hesitate.