I Like the Writers Who

I like writers who aren't afraid of the dark.

Calling storms to paper with the tips of their pens.

Diving into bottomless pits of emotions, pulling the chords of deeply rooted issues. Only to slit veins and drain the wounds with words.

Love poems are enchanting,

but I like haunting beauty.

The kind that's marinated over time and tells tales of staring down demons and walking across fire. Pain is the carpenter of art and I want to see battlefields stretched across pages and scar tissue that you bleed to tell a story.

There is substance in war.

And I like writers who bear the marks across their sentences.

Threaded through poetry like embroidered crests. I like writers who skip razor blades like stones across paragraphs. The ones who can disappear within themselves only to return gemstones from the abyss.

Life is magnificent.

But monsters lurk around corners.

And I like the writers who can be swallowed whole, only to return and write the very thing that we seek to find out: HOW TO LIVE.

I like the writers who have done just that. I like the writers who have LIVED.