04 January 2017

I write

How do I write these words sprouting from each keystroke? I don’t know really. I listen, I guess. The words sprout from my mind unto my fingers. A voice lingering at the corner. Whispering about the beauty life is. Wanting me to share it’s life with others who wish to see. I write in consideration. A need to be heard? Not anymore. A need to love? There is no need. A need to share? A need to care? Certainly. In this care my words are born from a fallen sea. Sometimes gentle. Sometimes torrential. But always warm. Always colorful. Always bright.
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