I Write Because I Crave It

He watched me sitting on the bed doodling and writing away the happiness,

pain, anger, saddness.

I was content allowing the rainy day to keep me focused on my writing. 

He walked over and wrapped himself around me, reading every line, then planting a kiss

on my cheek. 

"Your magnificent, intelligent, adored, and beautiful". 

I smiled at him and laughed a little. He picked up one of my spread out journals and 

flipped through the pages. I didn't pay much attention and then he started reading one

aloud. 

I stopped writing, placing my pen down and turned to face him. I lay my head on his 

shoulder just listening to him, feeling his breaths. 

"This one is my favorite of all the ones you've written" he said. 

I constantly fall in love with my writing, and some days I just don't understand why I write

what I write. Having people read my writing and see a sparkle in it, or something they

can relate to makes me happy. This is something I'm passionate about. Writing about my

experiences and life thoughts, to share with people who want to read it.