She was walking out of her school building, talking to her best friend. She was showing her a poem she had written, looking for feedback. Her friend perused the words gently, and when she was finished, she was delighted. It was pleasant to see her poetry taking a more optimistic tone, she said. She enjoyed the joy of it, the simplicity of finding things she loved. She wanted another one just like it. She wanted more.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Reckless Stars in a Small Sky
Poetrythings that happen to me inevitably end up on paper. the emotions seep out of me and flow onto the page. words are scribbled over each other. they tell you about my pain, my love, and my fight to recover who I am. they help me remember where I've be...
