Why I Write

 

To me, writing isn’t a want. It’s a need, as much as lungs begging for oxygen maybe even more. This need, she demands me to share my racing thoughts, to express my pain, to voice my joy. I can never quench her need, she comes back time and time again forcing my hand to pick up the pen and tell my story. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like without her. What if she was passive and her love affair with the pen didn’t burn with passion? I wonder what would it be like to sleep through the night without her pleading to share just one more story. When I ponder of life without her, she wrangles my heart and reminds me, “we are one.” One and the same her and I, this need is I and her love affair with the pen is mine. Together we will always be, a flaming desire to tell my thoughts and share my voice.

 

-S. Annette

Hey Me

Hey me, “how are you? “

“How is your heart today? Is it beating to the rhythm of your dreams or is aching for the desires that are just out of reach?”

 

Hey me, “how are you?”

“How is your mind? Are your thoughts dancing to the sound of laughter or are they sinking into the depths of self-doubt?”

 

Hey me, “how are you?”

“How is your body today? It is swaying to the delicate touch of another or is it collapsing from the weakness of solitude?”

 

Hey me, “Please tell me, how are you?”

 

-S. Annette

Our Little Talks

I never know when days like today will find me. Sometimes it’s a smell, or sometimes it’s a song, and sometimes its nothing at all. You just open the sealed tight vault to my heart and let yourself in. I don’t mind your unplanned arrival. It helps me remember you because every day I lose a memory of you. My heart will break the day I can no longer remember the details of your face, so please let yourself in so I can take one more glance.

-S. Annette