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 that life is. Wanting me to share its 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.

she writes