Writing

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Is what I am doing

It’s what I’ve always been doing
Even if the thoughts never made it to paper

Made up stories of aliens and fairy tales
Ghosts and magic tomatoes

My mind swirls with colors and characters

I wait to meet my new acquaintances

The invisible boy, the dangerous punk, the lonely chef
Then from acquaintances we become friends

We lounge around a wooden table drinking from our glasses
The air is electric, light is dim

We chat about lost loves, old demons, and poached fish
We laugh at old miseries

And cry at happy memories

I look to their faces and cling to their voices

Each one is weaving a string into my heart
They are apart of me

They represent my dreams and fears
They can see me

And then I realize
I am them

Hello again, I say





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