Loss and loneliness
have empty, open skins,
hungry bones begging flesh.
I weave them wrappers of words,
cages of colons,
locks of full stops,
so that they might step outside me
and live within the lines instead.
[AN]- This is why I write. I write away my negative emotions; I’ve been doing this for as long as I can remember. And now that I don’t have that pain, I find it harder and harder to find inspiration. I’m just too happy to write!