The day that my mind became too full with running thoughts

The day that my heart seemed to ooze from its physical being into the empty crevices of my body

The day that I started writing was when my mind and my heart started to communicate in such a way that my arms and fingers could barely keep from shaking

The shaking turned into aching and with the aching comes a breath of calm and the start of my fingers tapping with a need

The need to write, to type, to write and type and write and type

To write to drain all that chokes me up

To write because I am drained of all that I am

To write to hold in the thoughts that run through my mind

To write to be held with the blanket of the words that I have quilted

To write to cry out what my tears haven't leaked

To write for those that need a window into my mind as I keep the door shut

To write to feel lighter

To write to feel something

To understand

To love

To hate

I am a poet and I know the connection between feelings and words

I am a poet and I feel the words running through my veins

I am a poet who doesn't just write to write

But a poet who writes to speak, move and run

I'm a poet who writes to live

Now I know that writing to live might sound a bit cliche

But the thing about being a poet is that sounding cliche is just the start of it

You're whole thought process becomes a cliche and your feelings morph into something that fairytales and nightmares are made of

You cant think without something mystical coming out of it

You start to think of colors as more than just colors and objects as feelings

You start to compare every little thing you see and hear to everything you feel and experience

Your ideals are the same but they way they are crafted in such a way that everyone yet no one understands

People will read your pieces and hum and nod in agreement but you are the owner of these words, this piece and these feelings behind it

You wrote this piece for everyone but this piece was written by no one, the poet