the less i write,

the more i dream.

stories

they stomp around,

leap over the fences,

bite through the silence

in which i wrapped

them.

and so the place

where my heart used to be

lights up

like a movie theater,

where all the small hurts

and all the big hurts

hold me hostage.

get writing,

they say,

or i'll twist this knife.

i wish i could say

i was brave,

that i stood my ground;

- but then again,

here we are.