she wrote poetry. words found the blanket of clarity through handwritten scribbles and typed letters. but
only when she needed it.
•••
but she. you see,
she was poetry. her heart couldn't beat without similes streaming through her veins. unfinished sentences swarmed her brain, and jumbles of phrases stormed her stomach.
she was poetry. living, breathing, heart-beating words.
she was words.
•••
but she, was not.
