It Makes Music

wingedpiglets:

I write to      release
the emotions and feelings I’m
too scared
to express.
To see my thoughts
on paper. Sometimes
I write to

            remember
and sometimes to

            forget.

I write because it’s the only way to make
my feelings concrete

                                                solid

                        cohesive, understandable.

            When I write, my
thoughts become art
instead of a jumble in my head.

How The Words Get On The Page

They are all the times
i’ve been put away on a back shelf
and collected dust.

All the times my heart has shattered
onto the pages of my notebook and
sullied my fingers black.

They are the words
I carve onto the pages instead
of into my skin.

All the times I have felt
my heart was burning in the night sky
instead of in my chest.

The times I have stood still
among hives of buzzing,
undulating people.

When I have been sitting
on my own bed,
and still felt I wasn’t home.

When I feel so restless in
my own skin
that I swallow rainbows so I may
dissolve into darkness and wake up
forgetting.

It Makes Music

I write to release
the emotions and feelings I’m
too scared
to express.
To see my thoughts
on paper. Sometimes
I write to

remember
and sometimes to

forget.

I write because it’s the only way to make
my feelings concrete

solid

cohesive, understandable.

When I write, my
thoughts become art
instead of a jumble in my head.