Writing

Tell me, am I not the only one who is sick of these damn old men deciding what women are going to do with their bodies?

ywp is my home away from home

except it's always at my home

so it is my home

Ode to those that make life into gold 

that bring us some sparkle as we grow old 

Ode to the places, friends, and small things 

to which credit's unequal to the joy that they bring 

At first... 

You stayed quiet... 

In your own cocoon of safety, scared that you might get hurt... 

But over time... 

You grew... 

You started to open up... 

It's a long, thin and twisted, smooth rope,

One I could wrap around the skin on my wrists,

And keep myself tied to one place.

Because when I'm with you, I'm free,

Chasing the world without a finish line

You're chasing after me again,

Like I'm a shooting star and I can hear your footsteps 

before I see your face pasted

with grins and smiles, I don't understand.