If I Were She

I read her lines and wish to have that kind of voice that speaks sparingly yet says it all.  The honesty to say what is in the heart so that the whole world can share a moment that defines a soul's inner thought. 

And yet I am thankful for this little space.  It's my place.  I say a lot or nothing or something small, but it's mine.  And no one seems to see me here, except for God and the online world.  Maybe. 

I look forward to the moments when in the teeming of my day I steal a minute to spill my heart.  Cathartic like a cleanse.  She writes poetry, and me, I just write me.