Three novellas sit unwritten, their words whispered

throughout the crammed corners of my skull.

Two notebooks collaged with cutouts of dresses and deco

hold all hundred poems from the period

of endless insanity and anger.

Scribbles of charcoals, blacks, blues, and beiges

line the lines and caress the character of every word;

every dotted i and crossed t another memory.

The double edged swored, the pen pushed me

to perservere through all prior demons.

A unique escape from emotion:

writing whittled down my worries until

the wood was nothing but a pencil

to be written with - to be worked.

Words, paragraphs, pages

Persuaded me to heal all prior wounds -

Perfectionism released, dreams reached for,

A girl free.