The translucent words I write
dance across the page.
As my heart pours out jumbled words
my head seems to get it straight.
Logically clustering emotions
into lines that reflect my wounds
My hurt. My fear.
It makes it all a little easier-
Finding a way to make it look pretty on paper
is almost as good as it being pretty in real life.
Although writing is more like a pig with lipstick or
an ugly wound dressed with a flowery band aid.
Writing help though. Sometimes.