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.
Pour Me Another
You're the shot of whisky burning straight to my core, the heat and the sting that makes me crave more, such fabricated bliss wrapping me up in the oblivion of its hold Breath_words© 1/2015
it’s all spilling out.
Spilled confessions leak from my veins, formerly so careful hidden beneath layers of innocent lies, the "It's ok" and "I'm fine" type, all those thoughts that rested dormant under the surface, words and worlds held back, unable to breathe But, now they are free,...
Wild One
She is free, unbroken with a spirit that calls to you She dances in the dark and makes music with fire, creating sparks that you want to feel She is a skipping stone, longing to turn ripples into waves She is untamed and unwilling to conform, refusing to turn herself...
salvation
Colors of Her
She is power and beauty, an indigo wave crashing into the shore, bold streaks of lilac and pink staining the sand with stories from afar She is wild and reckless, a frenzy of passion painted across the sky in whirlwinds and tornados, scarlet storms waging war...
Own Worst Enemy
Beautiful Melancholy
Please Don’t Change
I wonder if you'd be different if your life hadn't been that way. I wonder if you'd know how talented you are, or if you'd see your beauty like I do. I wonder if you'd do yourself harm just to feel something if you knew how much you make others feel. It saddens...
Strong Enough
