With what eyes did you call me over that night?
You wanted something from me or of me,
I don’t understand.
I wish I weren’t so moved by,
Spiritual stories and my sentimental high.
You see, emily called me before you did.
I saw you and wanted the mystery I made for myself.
You just happened to fall into my fantasy.
At least until you changed your mind...
Started stories,
Piling up,
Getting too heavy for my backpack.
This is why I write so much,
This is why I “cry” so much,
This is why photos will never lose my touch.
There is always more to write,
There are always more pages of white.
One day I will start a story I can finish.
One will illustrate the novels and write the sequels.
Best sellers are all I see ahead.
