Why I Write

Why I Write He asks why I write And I say I must Because the words, you see Flow as easy as blood in my veins The pen as natural as the air I breathe Without it, I explain The maze of my mind couldn't handle it He asks how I write And I say that my method cannot be taught For my words are etched into me, stuck to my skin My story swept back like my hair, ready to come loose If I taught him my way It just wouldn't be the same He asks where I write And I say that it can be anywhere Hidden in my mind waiting for a chance to be free In the comfort of my bed, or the cold of a desk Anywhere, I explain I can write, as long as it comes ultimately from the heart He asks who I write about And I pause My heart races faster than my thoughts have ever dared My eyes soften like they've never been hurt before I question his questions As if it could be anyone but him?