Scrabble
And only when I'm alone with my thoughts can I begin to piece together the letters that make the words which construct the sentences that describe this feeling.





Even now, I don't yet understand exactly what word I'm looking for, though it clings to the tip of my tongue like his sweet cologne clings to my shirt. A word that so nearly describes the butterflies in my stomach but also the pounding in my chest and the fever in my cheeks.
But it's more than just the symptoms of the syndrome. It's the surge of confidence I get from watching his eyes. It's that slice of heaven when my fingers run through his perfect hair. It's an aggressive kiss and a tender caress. A smooth cheek and a rough shave. A sweet compliment and a dirty joke. A dozen 'wow' moments, but just one man.
I've got a word... Unfortunately, he's not very good at Scrabble.





Even now, I don't yet understand exactly what word I'm looking for, though it clings to the tip of my tongue like his sweet cologne clings to my shirt. A word that so nearly describes the butterflies in my stomach but also the pounding in my chest and the fever in my cheeks.
But it's more than just the symptoms of the syndrome. It's the surge of confidence I get from watching his eyes. It's that slice of heaven when my fingers run through his perfect hair. It's an aggressive kiss and a tender caress. A smooth cheek and a rough shave. A sweet compliment and a dirty joke. A dozen 'wow' moments, but just one man.
I've got a word... Unfortunately, he's not very good at Scrabble.

Where the music is trapped. 