I’ve been all excited to write today,
the words they sit inside
just begging to be read by the eyes
of the pretty onlookers.
I push certain thoughts forward
something I may not understand
especially when it’s written
using cryptic syllables and tones.
There are triggers and templates
that help us paint our pictures
and when I read the words of others,
I am in this speechless awe.
Understand, all our stories are real.
I’m thankful for the generous souls.
The people that give a side of themselves
above all else, simply because it’s nice.
It’s an inspiration to see the distance runner share why he runs.
The girl and her macabre writings comparing the not so glamorous side of life, yet sharing why we should be thankful.
A mom who is raising her son on her own cherishing the gift in him.
Friends, no matter what happens between them, still love unconditionally through an unbreakable bond.
The girl that no matter what she writes, connects to something deep.
I sit in awe reading all the words
hoping to learn from your experience.
It’s a test every 24 hour hours
to see how our lives take turns changing.
When we start our routines
some are mundane and repetitive
take a minute to share something.
I find beauty in the oddest of moments,
long suffering intimacy escapes me
I’m drawn to words
maybe it’s filling some massive void
because your thoughts embrace feelings.
The readers are just as important as the writers.
It’s always been attractive to me
to see a book in a hand
someone so devoted,
I get jealous.