I write to think, I write to speak, I write to live.
I write because it’s all I know.
I write because I’m not capable of articulating my thoughts, my emotions.
I may not let any pair of eyes view these pieces but my own.
However, they continue to decorate various notebooks, stray papers and cement walls.
I don’t know how to talk, or how to make things go my way.
I don’t know how to do an abundance of things.
What I do know, is how to write about the smoothness of your face, and how your eyes flutter when you laugh.
I know how to describe your smile, and your touch, and your ever-lasting presence.
I don’t know how to go about most things.
But when it comes to love, I could go on forever.