A Quote for your Thoughts.

Mindy Nettifee:

If a man is only as good as his word, then I want to marry a man with a vocabulary like yours. The way you say dicey and delectable and octogenarian in the same sentence — that really turns me on. The way you describe the oranges in your backyard using anarchistic and intimate in the same breath. I would follow the legato and staccato of your tongue wrapping around your diction until listening become more like dreaming and dreaming became more like kissing you. I want to jump off the cliff of your voice into the suicide of your stream of consciousness. I want to visit the place in your heart where the wrong words die. I want to map it out with a dictionary and points of brilliant light until it looks more like a star chart than a strategy for communication. I want to see where your words are born. I want to find a pattern in the astrology. I want to memorize the scripts of your seductions. I want to live in the long-winded epics of your disappointments, in the haiku of your epiphanies. I want to know all the names you’ve given your desires. I want to find my name among them, ‘cause there is nothing more wrecking sexy than the right word. I want to thank whoever told you there was no such thing as a synonym. I want to throw a party for the heartbreak that turned you into a poet. And if it is true that a man is only as good as his word then, sweet jesus, let me be there the first time you are speechless, and all your explosive wisdom becomes a burning ball of sun in your throat, and all you can bring yourself to utter is, oh god, oh god.”



I am a coward.
I hide behind pages and bindings and ink.
I speak in other’s words, because mine are too vulnerable.
Made of blown glass, they shake under the slightest look.
I can’t imagine how they’d shatter under someone’s touch.

I am a coward.
I hide behind the delete key.
It was a faulty connection.
Blame the internet every time.
I depend on crutches to speak my mind:
Johnny Blue
Johnny Black.
I’m a puppet in their influence.
Only then am I brave enough to touch.

I am a coward.
I can hide behind makeup, clothes, a smile.
I can wear my costume day or night.
I can be someone I’m not.
I am able to slip into the background unnoticed.

I am a coward

Seduce me with sound

To me, words aren’t merely a method of homosapien communication, but an expression. Words can convey such an array of emotions, it’s astounding.
Words, simple syllables strung together, can make me furious, heartbroken, terrified, and completely overjoyed.
Speak the words family, prairie, field, harvest, autumn, bonfire- and I am consumed with contentment, longing, homesickness, and a warmth that spreads throughout my entire being.
Mention words like ignorance Holocaust, bigotry, book burning, Red Scare, slaughter, and my mind is full of loathing, anger, and revenge.
Utter the words betrayal, loneliness, “used to be,” “in loving memory,” lost, aftermath, and my chest fills with an ache that leaves a chasm in my heart infinitely deep and dark.
But words have the ability to do so much more.
Stay. Beautiful. Captivating. Brilliant. Timeless. Priceless. Eternity. Dawn. Anew. Irreplaceable. Rising. Comfort. Caress. Tantalizing. Wonder. Taste.
I go weak at the knees. My mind goes hazy, my words dry up.
A well written paragraph is as seductive to me as a candlelit diner, a sentence concealing heartfelt emotions is more than a bouquet of flowers.
There isn’t any need for Shakespeare, a flowery quote with college-educated words, but take the time to pour your heart into a sentence and you’ve captured me.
Let me loose in a field of sentimental syllables, help me find my way through a maze constructed of raw emotions.
People have said that all a woman asks for is chocolate and roses- No, send me a letter with your very heart trapped in the ink, and I’m yours.