In Cursive: A little musing about my creative process.

It starts with adopting a rawness that hears heartbeats. It reels in fainted souls begging to have their stories heard. From another pair of defensive eyes, another par of quivering lips, please give me another dose of emotion. And the talking starts; their words wreathing in white smoke and intertwining themselves into my narrative.

It starts with feeling tulip petals when I rest my lips against your shoulder. And then I feel your fingers running through my hair as we immerse ourselves into the melodious tune of love. When I’m without your presence, I’ll allow myself to count the spaces between the windows of the apartment across from my room. I’ll be daydreaming about every curtain tale till they are washed over with feelings that waltz in me.

It starts with losing the sunlight in you. And as my whole skylight dims along with your absence, I began learning to shine twice as bright as I used to.  I’m still learning as the world attempts to rob my glow but my soul has long been claimed by a light no darkness could overcome.

I know there will come a time when the weight of these

scattered thoughts become unacceptable belonging to me.

Deep down I still wonder why.

But, don’t blame the human heart, it’s only been half the time.

As the days go by, these things imperceptibly make sense within me.  And that’s when everything starts writing in cursive.