f I read this to her, would she believe me?
Does she realize how often she crosses my mind?
How I ponder waiting at the screen praying to God that she'll be on when I reach the count of ten.
And when she does, I may act casual but that is only a sample of how I truly feel.
This might sound horribly cheesy, choppy, and this typing probably doesn't even sound like me, but I really did feel like pouring a fraction of my feelings into words. And so it begins:
Her kind words are instant; they could chase away thunderstorms and heavy rain clouds towering over another. I cannot fathom how one could be so kind and thoughtful. Her angry flashe