To understand and be misunderstood.

Stories made from stolen glances and borrowed time

Magic dashed between letters and spaces and lack of punctuation. 

A writer’s heart holds both blessing and curse

This is the only thing I understand.

I am prone to the trap of turning people into paper

so thin and malleable but full of possibilities

a blank page for my heart’s desires

But people are not meant to be trapped in between pad and pen. 

I tried to write love songs but my words were to firm to sway to a beat 

too clear to be repeated  

the lines too much mine to be sung by anyone else. 

There is no room in these syllables to rhyme to another’s rhythm 

 I cannot remember the last time words flowed so freely from my fingers.

Emerging after the long winter they embrace my pages

Taking breath as if for the first time. 

Together 

Letters, words, wrapped in our spaces 

Joined in the holiest union

For ourselves more than anyone. 

Do you understand