love + light

       There are differences with every writer, some have the purpose of reaching all audiences, some want people to hear of the adventures that have been sitting in their head for sometime, others wish for their book to be read and interpreted in a million different hues. My only want with writing is for people to have it when they most need it, whether it be something to help unwind them in a bathtub full of foam and a cup of slip-away, to keep patience while waiting for the bus, a poem to keep in their pockets as they build up the courage for their first 'i love you', anything at all.
       Love + light is what i would like to call that book, it wouldn't be just a book, it would be a reason to begin anew. It would be the golden shadows cast on living room walls at the end of the day. There would be poems, and single sentences, stories and letters never sent. To whom they belong to, i'm not sure of yet. Maybe it will be the time i release all the doves that have been dormant in little rooms, or the words that slipped out too quietly for anyone to hear. I have mentioned before, in the mirror to myself that my writing may be terrible, my grammar wrinkled and my intentions too much. But my heart remains overflowing, making a mess on my bathroom floor, if there is no other way to love fully but to write and keep writing, then i must and i will.
       It is said that people who love more than their counterparts and will always love more, happen because they have everything to give and the other person nothing at all. The first person is meant to be the light in the darkness and the second person a moth. But someday a person will have more than enough to give and will not just take, take, take. If I have to wait decades I will be filled with years, books, plants, people, everything life had to offer and I gave back. And maybe I won't yet have a person. I have nothing to offer but fear and shivering hope. Maybe this will be enough and maybe it will not be.
       The strange noises that erupt from my mouth, I have yet to find drawers for to keep them folded and shut. But maybe this book will lessen the burden of looking for one. I hope this book to be like coffee in the morning, constant but bitter and always ready for morning. Hopefully I will not be too redundant, and that people understand the title and why I write.

Hopelessly Full of Love,

Marcy