I'm writing letters on my body
All the things that I can't say
So when you find my body
You can finally get my way

Those words will be all the twilight has left
As the sun and the moon kiss the edge

I'm writing letters on my body
To tell and untold story
So when you see all those A's and O's
Please think of me when it snows

Those words will be all the ground has left
As the dirt covers up the message

I'm writing letters on my body
To draw you a map to rescue someone else

it's funny how people can capture you.
the lines around their eyes when they smile can invite you towards them,
or the fleeting look they give when they think no one's watching.
i'm interested in people's confidence, but also their nongregariousness.
the giving, the receiving, ebb and flow that makes sense but so little sense.
promise and brokenness, blame and responsibility.
strong regard interests me; inform me of the weather, or why that tea reminds you of that person, and why that makes you close your eyes and wonder.

I do not write because my poems are good
Nor do  write to truly feel
I merely write because I have worth
In these words that are so real

I don’t consider myself a great writer
And I don’t write as a simple pass time
I write because I define myself
In every syllable and every rhyme

I write because I live in words
And breathe in each sentence
And honestly it brings me peace
To write of my repentance

I think that pain is easier to speak of
When I don’t have to use actual words
And people listen a lot better
And my statements don’t go unheard.

Writing my only escape
From the sadness I always dwell
And writing my happiness
The only way to reverse this spell.

I write because its right
I do it because I know I was meant to
I write so my brokenness isn't forgotten
I truthfully write for you.