They are on the tip of her tongue.
The words she wishes to say.
Internally, her mind is racing.
Her thoughts, jumbled.

How can she tell him what's on her mind without him turning away?
How can she explain that when he is around, the words stick.
That when she thinks about what to say she becomes sick.

She grabs a sheet of paper,
and a pen.

Her thoughts begin to untangle,
the storm in her mind becomes calm.
The words that were stuck like glue begin to flow onto the page.
They flow with ease, and with grace,
right onto that perfect , white, page.

Does she dare show him this page?
Does she dare open herself up?
Does she dare leave herself vulnerable?

Does she dare?
With a pen and that piece of paper in hand,
she asks herself
"Do I dare?"