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It took a long time for me to consider myself a writer. I still struggle with saying it. I started writing at a young age to work through feelings I didn’t dare tell anyone. I learned that once you start writing, it becomes a part of you. It’s something you always go back to whenever you are overwhelmed with certain emotions. People don’t always listen to your words, but the paper always listens to the pen.

Wild Horses

Wild Horses

We were always so good at running, trading morning glories for lavender nights, whiskey sunsets for a tequila sunrise in a misguided attempt to save others from us We made a new home out of back seats and bar stools and blue highways, always one breath away from being...

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Gone Girl

Gone Girl

  I find myself swallowed in the low rumble, the way the earth seems to move whenever you wish it while I stand here trapped by wisps and trails, storm cloud cages around a melancholy heart I've started to lose track of what's real anymore, my chest pounding in...

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For Always

  There's been too much bittersweet, our minds chasing problems instead of holding on to each other One day, we'll have time to soak up the good, moments spent loving these hearts of ours so concerned with comforting We'll watch suns set and moons rise, talk...

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Fernweh

Fernweh

  She chases the messenger in a sky full of stars, explores forests just like the one etched on her heart Kismet chaos stains her curious lips, and wild dreams linger on her fingertips as faraway places softly call out her name, whispering of a sweet madness that...

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Discovering Home

Discovering Home

She found her way through winter frost and summer rain, chasing after destinations unknown She searched the skies and discovered home within the tropical fog and the morning mist, dappled with light and ocean kissed, away from the poison and the toxic noise, and she...

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