I find myself reading back over my words. I look at them and I wonder how they appear to the eyes of others. Do they see the words I write as I intend? Do they see the words I write the way I see them?
My words have evolved over the years. They have grown wiser and even more eloquent in some aspects. My words have found humor that once did not exist for them. My words are spoken and written and wash my soul in meaning. They are pieces of me. They are parts of me. They are all of me standing behind a sheer curtain looking out into the crowd. I am filled with them and I can never be empty so long as they are alive within.
I once wrote as a teenager. I was filled with angst and longing. I questioned and calculated and couldn’t understand but my words were there no matter. They stood beside me. They filled the pages that had been stained with tears. The tears of all of the fear that resided in my head. My words drip onto those pages and left more than splotches. They left indelible memories that could never be forgotten. My youth was not wasted because of the words that survived me. I survived because of the words that drove me. I learned because of the words that pushed me.
I once composed as a young woman. I composed stories. I composed sentences. I blended words to fill pages. I was alone. I found love. I found the love of singular sounds as they slipped from my tongue. I found the beauty of language. I fell in love with articulation and the frivolity of sounds. I frolicked in their taste upon the buds that created them. I loved these words for the strength they had given me and I dove deeper into their essence. I bathed myself in their existence and I dreamed of wishes unseen because of them. I aspired for greatness and I longed to compose the most perfect lines. I craved and I composed and I created. I loved these words for their simplicity. I loved these words for their power. I loved because they allowed me to understand what love meant.
I once betrayed my words as a woman. I left them on the side of the road when life came crashing in. I abandoned them and I moved about with a hole within my heart. My life was filled with everything but my first love had become a distant memory. I forgot the beauty that once surrounded me. I forgot the friendship that had seen me through my most difficult times. I forgot the vitality that my words instilled within my life-force. I forgot me. I moved about as a woman. I smiled as a woman. I laughed, I cried, and I lied because my words still stood where I had left them. I forgot and then I pushed the pain of forgetting into the darkest crevice I could. I did not have time to regret those long lost words. I did not have the strength. My world watched as my words withered into dust and my heart longed to breathe them but once more. I forgot because I no longer used them to create.
I once wrote a sentence. It was created in the moment. It sparked a flicker of light that looked somewhat familiar. My sentence grew into a paragraph and I thought I could remember. I remembered a beauty that once filled my soul and I longed to meet it once more. I wrote another paragraph and felt the flutter of my heart. My blood warmed and my hands shook as something burst inside. More paragraphs found existence and my hands no longer shook. I felt tranquility flood over me as I remembered the friends I had left long ago. I moved my fingers over their faces and spoke their names aloud. I moved my heart over their meaning and danced within their sounds. We looked upon one another and remembered a friendship once shared. My heart broke open with emotions and I remembered the strength of my words. I remembered my words and how simple they may seem but I will never forget their truth.
These words are more than what they appear. They can speak to the heart of you.