brooklynwyn-845

The first time I heard her voice I saw a library.  An enclosed little nook with a creaking wooden table, the color of the wood changing from honey amber to deep mahogany under the flickering candlelight. 

"Hey Siri. Flip a coin."

All the time, I would take my burden-the weight of choice- and give it to Siri.

Sometimes it was as light as a feather (red or blue)

Sometimes it was heavy as bricks (stay or break up)

i love writing. 

i loved writing.

until i started thinking.

for me, writing was my everything, i think

my way to an escape, my way to a love story, my way to another life.