She only loved through poetry and prose.


I have words shrouded deep within the exterior walls of my soul, but it was never necessary to share my thoughts and who I am with anyone besides myself.

Because sometimes people look at you and tell you they understand, but their eyes betray. They try to understand but you know deep down they barely got the tip of it all.

I have never been one to trust easily. I view people as a whole; all wholly lies, deceit, craftiness. Maybe it was easier this way. Without expectations, you never got any disappointments. And people can be such a disappointment.

But I guess it’s time to open up. I’ve heard the calling. I have to take the step and it scares me a hell lot.

And I guess it’s when you’ve given your all in the name of love that you can fully understand the depth of complexity of what love is.

I believe love is found behind our lower ribcages and it takes precision to peal the layers apart without someone causing us too much pain. And we can only open ourselves up and hold on to faith and trust and hope that it was all worth it in the end.

That this was all worth it in the end.


1 thought on “She only loved through poetry and prose.”

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