The curling of a pencil's lead, creating lines for words

that fell from my mind and into my tiny fingertips. 

This is the distant, glowy memory of when I first fell that pull,

that longing to gently press

tender, light

words together or to

dagger, compound 

them into existence to form a poem.

This affinity for words was created by my liking of

how words flow and how

each

letter

clashes or

connects

to the next.

All I wanted to do was write

and generate eclectic sentences full of

meaning and sound.

 

The poems I have written mean the world

to me

or sometimes they mean the world

to someone else.

Or sometimes they don't mean anything 

to anyone.

But one thing is for certain,

no matter my age or situation,

no matter if I feel inspired or not,

I will continue writing for the sake of writing because 

all of these beautiful words need beautiful sentences to call home.