the only way
the only way
She thought of all the words that went unspoken in the world, throughout time: what happened to them, where did they go? What would happen if they were all spoken? How different would the world be then?
…his words – the gift of expression, the bewildering, the iluminating, the most exalted and the most contemptible, the pulsating stream of light or the deceitful flow from the heart of an impenetrable darkness.
The right words to express oneself can never be found in any dictionary.
I write to taste life twice; to savour the flavour of sweet times gone by, or spit out the bitterness before it multiplies.
You are alone,
You speak back to silence.
People call it loneliness,
You call it solitude,
Meaning the same pain.
Jackson,” he mused. “Not a name either one of you was born to.”
Lizzie answered, “No. But beyond a certain point, names become accessories. We swap them out as needed, for the sake of peace. You understand?”
“I understand. Though I disagree. Names aren’t hats to change a look, or a suit to be swapped at a whim. Words mean things.”
“Then we must agree to disagree.
What a glut of books! Who can read them?
Words, one may argue, are such a drag, useless – don’t think it too much, just do it. And no – I agree – over-thinking is a curse, but it is without words when I over-think, when I over-burn neurons. With words, things find their place. I’ve said this to myself a million times.
Poems are invisible flowers on my skin.