You write the unwritten
Thinking it was
To discover
The lyrics of a melody old
You played in new words
Knew not
New no more

The other day I caught you staring,
I don’t think you realized because,
When my eyes met yours we broke into uncontrollable laughter.

The incredible feeling of being in the presence of pure love,
Intertwined instinctively

Remember to never grow a day older,
But always grow a day wiser.


And know our love is a pre-written plot from the very beginning
A script sent straight from stars



           —letters to my sun ☀️

I collect words like fine antiques,
Admiring the way this ancient lexicon rolls off my tongue,
The same way I’d admire how crystal candlesticks glow in the sun.
I create sentences like painters create art,
each syllable delicately placed,
Much like each individual paint stroke in Monet’s Japanese gardens,
Admired but never truly understood.
I cherish books like passions held close to my heart,
Comparing the glide of page against page as they turn in excitement
To the soft-lighted kisses shared in quiet moments,
Loved and filling my heart with contentment.

Writing seems safer, I feel
Because letters looped together
can flow so fluently through pens,
not speech though.
They can stand their *******
grounds when my legs give way
And words written down don’t
get stuck in my hand like they
do in my throat.
They can can’t stutter and stumble
like my tongue when I try to
stable my breath.
No one can tell if I’m laughing
or crying through written words alone.