drabbles

on writers

why do you write?

her friend asks

and she smiles that rare, soft smile

and speaks of worlds and lives that didn't exist

that she created using nothing but her imagination

of worlds that writhed and seethed and roiled with hate and spite

of worlds that bloomed and flourished and shone with warmth and light

of people that she would never meet—

but whom she knew better than herself

of boys with sharp teeth and sharper tongues

of girls with stained souls and broken minds

and said,

my role

is to share these worlds

so that the broken and lost

may find refuge in them,

and finally rest their tired souls.