The secret life of words

The best gift is receiving a book. Not new or old. Just a book. A book that maybe is new but it's copy was read by someone and it touched them and they thought "...would feel this story." A book so old the pages are brown, it smells of years of being cried on, you'll find squashed bugs and tear trails and fingerprints from hands that trembled as they licked the last chocolate from their fingertips before turning the page, heart pounding ears ringing sweat dripping off their faces as they find out what happens next. Yes... the greatest gift is sharing your soul with words. Words are immortal because years after you fade away someone, somewhere will read your diary or the book you gave a loved one and a silent tear of joy or sorrow will slide down their cheek to add more power to the spirit of the words that immortalised your very essence. Words tear you asunder and spill your blood sweat and tears before greedily lapping them up into their ink. Eternally holding the very essence of you. And when that page turns, every word trembles lustily, waiting for the thrill of another giggle slipping from your lips, another tear climbing out your eye, another sob, another shock. And those words hold their bowls up with glee, dragging you into a world you'll never forget, a world that will never forget you either. Words know your scent, your touch. Words know when you're aching with need as you feel their erotic rhythm. Words know exactly how to stab your soul with fear as you run for your life before the killer gets you. Words wait for you at the top of the tower on the highest mountain, trembling in hope you will rescue them with a caress or a kiss. Words love you more than you will ever understand and will remember you long after you're dead.

Willow d Rivers.

The secret life of words.