I’ve decided not to write a poem today, and instead I wanted to talk to you.

Though it might not bring you any meaning or any type of entertainment, my conversing with you that is, but I’ve written a fair share amount of poetry this month so I thought it might be time for indulgence.

I’ve taken on the labels of ‘him’ and ‘her’, but I haven’t delved into ‘myself’ or even thought to look into ‘you’, and as much as that shouldn’t sadden me; it deeply terrifies me.

I often wonder, while I’m writing, whether my words will touch you or if they will move me, and with those thoughts in mind I continue to pursue my path of writing. Hoping that maybe one day I will find that fire that keeps me ignited, praying that one day your souls might become kindled to the point where you burst into flames.

It seems silly once I actually write it, but I do hope you understand what I’m trying to put out.

I want my words to touch you.

I want these little letters, that I put into broken paragraphs, to place a puzzle in your heart until you feel completed, until you’re overfilled and bursting at the seems. I want you to read them until you are sobbing from happiness or writhing in pain, but most of all I want them to reach deep inside you, much as I do myself.

I had hoped to not ramble on because I get confused with myself when I do such things, but these poems are words from my heart. Things that I have drudged up from only 23 years of being alive. I have scrawled them to my best abilities, to not only make myself happy, but to make you absolutely elated.

I have laid myself bare for you in some sort of way, I stripped down my walls and created this haven so that you could get a naked eye view of the secrets I kept hidden inside.

And with that confession put into place, I only want to ask you a few questions before I am gone;

What makes you happy?

It’s such a cliche emotion, but if you close your eyes I’m sure you’ll be able to pinpoint what exactly makes your heart flutter.

What makes you sad?

Do you still feel hatred toward another?

These are all things that are very important. Something that should be looked at daily until you can’t even fathom why you felt that way in the first place.

And lastly, what makes you breathe?

Ultimately it will never be a poem, or maybe even a person. If you’re well off, then it might even be yourself, but as for me it’s the night sky. When life fades, and death seems immense, those stars will forever be there. They give me aspiration- a sense of duty to keep on living, or even continue writing for you all who take the time to read it.

With that being said I’ll take my leave, whether you choose to leave a comment or not won’t bother me, for your thoughts are out in the universe. That’s all I could ever hope for.

Please take care of yourselves and I love you, thank you.

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