I position the points to these letters ever so delicately, so that they can roam free through this never-ending sea, as they have been trying to do ever so desperately.
And my hand, it shakes somewhat dangerously - a calm soul with a heart filled with anxiety.
I sit quietly.
At times, it is admittedly frightening...the things that cling like magnets to the surface of me.
Do you ever wonder if you are deserving?
And if so, how far do you go?
Do you know that hope without growth creates the monotone note?
I position the points to these letters so that maybe, I can approach you better.
Maybe you will learn to see me beyond measure, light as a feather, drifting away as naturally as the weather.
Do you catch yourself asking why you ask these questions in the middle of the night?
Do you ever get tired of the fight?
We should take flight out of our minds and land somewhere far out of sight.
My insight ignites the pounding eyes that sit in the pockets of my heart.
Seeing and feeling, they live on different continents, separately a part. Not apart.
The middle is the kindle for the art that arches through the tips of these letters and ends at the grip of my cramping hands.
For, everytime I sit down to write, I am obligated to take a stand...
Or at least take the time to understand why these words never flow as delicately as I once planned.

- L.G.