When I was younger and started writing all I wrote was poetry. I fell in love with what poetry did for me. It allowed me to say everything that I needed to say and express all of the pain that I felt without having to say anything to anyone in particular. I filled up reams and reams of paper with my thoughts and my feelings that I either felt could not be shared with anyone else, or no one cared enough to listen. For years, I suppose until I left a sufficient amount of emotions on the pages that I filled up, that was all that I wrote. Then I found and fell in love with telling a story in novel form and I set out to be a novelist.
In the last couple of days, as I’ve been sorting through some feelings that I don’t even really understand right now, I have somehow found poetry again. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that poetry has found me again. Now I haven’t actually formulated a whole entire poem yet but I can hear it in my head. The different lines from several different soon to be written poems continue to repeat themselves in my head over and over again but they haven’t decided to come together just yet. But I haven’t felt the vibe to write poetry in a very long time and it feels like it might be coming back to me. What’s funny is that I didn’t even realize that I had missed it.
The Diary: Succession of Lies (Now Available)
Writing as “Jaycee Durant”