Like fine silk slipping through cool hands
The words flow from my fingers onto paper
The ink drawling across a sheet of white
Like a skater on ice
Thoughts and emotions
Heart-felts and heart-breaks
Laughter and tears
Pour out easily upon lined paper
My mind isn’t made of cells
It’s made of paper and ink
My way of communication
To be heard
For words from my lips stall and get lost
For how can I speak
When I’m already seeing words turn into a melody
That dances into its form on a page
To me, poetry is my host
My life
My communication
My world