325.365; this is. on Flickr.

This is interlocked angles, because that’s all we can give.

This is exchanged pulses through intertwined fingers, because you’re never close enough.

This is the little moments.

This is waiting.

This is every word I cannot explain, wrapped into one. #sweeterpoetry

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338.365; blue is. on Flickr.

I wrote my very first poem about the color blue. The way it shone, what it comprised, I’m not even really sure what I wrote anymore. But that poem was me uninhibitedly writing because words called me, before discouragement overwhelmed desire.

Blue is embracing words with a childlike neglect for anything the world might tell me. Blue is inspiration and silliness wrapped into simple lines. Blue is refusing to let go of this dream. And blue is beautiful. #sweeterpoetry

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336.365; I feel small. on Flickr.

Is it possible to lose a part of yourself in a place you’ve never been?
Because I found a piece here, tucked between pebbles, outlined by footprints, illustrated by paintbrush clouds, written on the wind, and trickling through streams.

And somehow I now feel whole. #sweeterpoetry

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303.365; I cannot write this for you. on Flickr.

I cannot write this for you.
I cannot answer every question you pose with both hopeful expectancy and silent desperation for even a chance to understand the myriad of thoughts written within.

But I will hold them for you.
I will bear them. That even for a moment you might rest,
Where time tempers sorrow’s ache.

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