I’m not a writer, but I wish I could be.
I want to capture
The way the waning sunlight strokes your chin
Delicately.
I want to capture
The adrenaline rushing through my body
My hands pound the steering wheel
Laughter, now the lyrics of my song.
I’m not a writer.
But if I were
There would be a story
Of every late-night
Soul-searching talk.
There would be a list of everything
That makes my friends smile.
I’m not a writer.
There is no word to describe me.
I am a walking contradiction:
Someone impossible to pin down,
So easy to label.
I don’t belong to any box.
Any definition.
I only belong to the silence
At 3am
When my mind paints the stories
And I direct my movies
For an audience that will never watch.