I wish I was an experienced writer so I can write about how his kisses singed her lips but she liked how the flames consumed her to nothing so she opened her skin to let him in but maybe after his handprints fade from her body she'll sweep up the ashes to see how little of her he took and how much got destroyed with the fire or how he saw the galaxy in her mouth and fucking constellations in her eyes and how the planets seem to orbit around her like a neckalace and how he liked whenever she smiled the stars would wink at him behind her teeth or how she loves him so much that it burns burns burns like a fire in her loins or how he pulls at his hair and scratches his skin and rubs his lips raw because those are the places she used to touch or how every time she opened her mouth everything went silent as if the angels stopped singing to the lord just to listen in on her voice I wish I was an experienced writer so that my words can peek behind metaphors and run on sentences that I haven't a clue how to stop Stop STOP to explain about a walllower and a love that is as infinte as outerspace but I cannot do so because my ears never heard a heart break and my lips have never enveloped anothers so how can I write about love when I never known it and how can I write about life when I have yet to live? I fear that if I show my work to a professional writer his nose would point to the sky and his lips would part like the red sea and outforth comes a thunderous BOOM! that rattles my bones to the core and causes my heart to crawl away from my sleeve and back into my chest inside my cage of ribs locked until I decide to put pen to paper again because a "you're too young to understand what this is" scared the words away.
