all I used to have were unfinished thoughts
fragmented parts of myself,
that stopped writing at the fear of being uncovered.
having your privacy violated, particularly when it is your innermost thoughts,
makes you lose trust. not only in those around you
but even in yourself-
how can you trust the words not to betray you?
so you fear the words
I am unable to write to you,
I fear their invasion
and my unveiling.
but then we were here on the Afroist, learning love all over again
my words were dedicated to all the diaries torn asunder by invasive hands.
suddenly the unveiling did not feel so invasive
I am free to be myself. regardless.
there is nothing about me, deserving of shame.
so often you will find,
my words begin with no caps
sometimes a –
other times with “and”; “here”
my words are the continued thoughts
of the many diaries I discarded and abandoned
for fear that my innermost self was someone to be ashamed of,
My ability, and need to express myself in writing is beautiful.
I am my own best friend.
so who best to write letters to?
All these flowers are for me love.