POETRY THURSDAY
I won’t stop writing. I know that I would miss it terribly, it would carve a hole in my heart. And I won’t stop writing here either, because the hole in my heart if I did would be you-shaped. Writing is a comforter, warm and dovey. It’s a shock to the system. It’s an electric wire snapping and hissing in the rain. Writing wakes me up, it shakes me up, it quivers and leaps to life before me. It brings me unspeakable satisfaction. It makes me want to tear my hair out. It makes me feel like God. To Poem...