She was the kind of girl
Who didn’t blink when you told her
She was pretty.
She was the kind
Who became giddy when you told her
Her words were pretty.
That’s what made her ecstatic.
That’s what made her feel alive.
Words, hers and yours.
Always.
Tag: writing about writing
A Story to Tell.
And when they
Ask why when
She opens her
Mouth she only
Spills poetry,
She replies,
“My Heart broke
One too many times.
Now every piece has
A story to tell.
Poetry gives the story
Character.”
-a-
Set Fire to the World.
Armed with
The fire running
In her blood
Licking up her
Veins and arteries,
Pushing to be
Set free,
She attacked
The blank paper
With the sparks
Of awareness
And saw her words
Set fire to the
World around.
-a-
