To the girls who write poetry,
where tongues failed to form words
steady hands grant eternal life
to every secret longing
that pools in your heart
and seeks freedom through your pens.
You mother orphaned sentences,
and grant nomads shelter
who else can build a home
with only blank sheets
and hands stained with ink?
Silently wishing you could utter,
the words embedded in your heart.
* This is a Spin-off /sequel/response to “Boys Who Write Poetry”
To the man who spends his free time writing…..
I’ve been waiting my entire life to meet you.
Meet the man who can turn a blank page into a canvas.
A canvas for the wonderful images that rest inside of your mind.
The same man who can turn those images into spoken word.
I’m intrigued by your style, the way your wear your clothes.
Your wardrobe screams poet.
It sets you apart from the other wannabes.
No more people who just write poems, you’re the real deal.
Afraid to introduce myself, I let my words define me.
Speaking in a way that I never thought I could,
You made me want to be a better artist.
While struggling to get my name out…
Your vocal chords introduced you as amazing.
They told me that I had to step my game up if I were to compete with you.
But it wasn’t about competing; I was just honored to share the mic.
Then I met you and I could see why your voice would brag, it spends every day with you.
I was happy just to share the moment.
In the back of my mind, hoping to learn all that I can from you
While giving you the opportunity to learn a few things from me.
I said all of this to say….. I want to be the inspiration behind your words,
The reason for the sound behind your vocal chords….
Sincerely, a girl who spends her free time reading.