I started writing poetry when I was around 15 or 16 years old. I wasn’t in a good place then. That’s not to say I’m in a great place now but I’m better able to deal with those low points. Then, I had nothing to rely on but self-harm. I do not shy away from the fact that I used to hurt myself because it is nothing to be ashamed of. It is a cry for help, but for me there wasn’t anyone around to answer. So I turned to poetry. I don’t rely on rhymes. I don’t think about it. I just let the words flow, whether it’s about pain, love, or sex. There’s something very cathartic about taking some of the voices that are cluttering your head and placing them on paper. I suppose poetry really was my form of therapy.
It still is, but nowadays I like to challenge myself a bit more. Recently I’ve been trying my hand at more erotic fare, just to prove that I can, since it’s so far out of my comfort zone. But my main focus will always be those things that come from the heart…those things that have me racing out of bed to find a pen and a piece of paper because an idea is demanding to be given life. And who knows? Maybe I might challenge myself to let you have those poetry ebooks I’ve been thinking about. Maybe…I think some time soon.