When I Write

in the months of darkness and cold, i never stopped writing.

i just kept it all to myself. every night, my own religion

pages of pen poised on paper, pouring my heart out

i don't want to love someone

because i'm supposed to

you told me, one night in mid-july.

warm air and sun fading in the sky,

i want to fall in love with someone

i've heard this story a thousand times before.

i've seen it unfold. it started with a glance, became a smile,

became a longing. when i realized it was my turn,

i was too late. no one told me how hard it would be