14 Moving Through Life. Chapter Fourteen: My Method of Communication.

A guy I dated not too long ago, thought he could rate me, said he didn't like my use of metaphors or similes.

He said they're childish and that he didn't understand them, described how little a girl I am.

I told him I'm the artsy poetic kind, told him he shouldn't mind.

He told me that they needed to be gone, was tired of listening to my song.

All I could say, was that maybe we shouldn't date. That's who I am, why can't he be a man and learn respect?

It's nice that we don't talk anymore, even though I still think about you some, I wonder why your kindness was gone; You told me you wanted to be yourself, so why couldn't I myself?

I'm very romantic in my own way, I use certain paragraphs to explain my own graph.

Metaphorical thinking is beautiful to me, it helps me release. Makes me be the real me.

It's like music, it has rhythm, poetry is a musical gift of words but you don't hear it, you see it written down elegantly. It's a feast for the eyes, its meat.

Personally reading it, sings it into my ears, I can hear sometimes a voice from a distance, speaking existence, a song that comes closer and touches me.

And you want to just reach out and grab it, then it sails away, I wail at its absence.

I search for it, I turn through pages until there it is, more words to learn.

I cling to them, hug them against my chest, they put my soul to rest.

The words leap off the page and kiss me, insist me to stay and sing.

Together we revel, no level of pleasantry more gallant.

Writing puts us together, dancing happily in the sun, they show me feeling, sends us reeling.

If some people think my writing is juvenile, well I'm in denial, I can't make everyone happy.

If you're a writer too, share your thoughts, share your gift, it WILL be a great lift to those who see you for the REAL you.