My Writings

If I destroyed my writings does that mean I was never here? Would the world and those I know forget me? If I keep them, save them for you to read and if I reread and rewrite them does that make me more real, living, breathing and alive? For me, they hold my memories, feelings, love, dreams, hope and all emotion, revealing my mind, my heart, my very soul. They hold me in place fragile, vulnerable, safe, clear and sometimes distraught, crying and incoherent but with heartbeat, alive, living, being me. So, here I am on display, still here, still writing, still real forever me, displayed in my poetry.