Writing

T

Allison Taffet 

She has too many words.

She speaks in tangled vines,

Winding and leafy

and deeply intertwined with her soul.

 

Her skin is thin--

Laughter bubbles easily.

So does sadness.

She feels every feeling fiercely,

Fighting to hold onto what the rain can’t wash away

 

But she loves the rain.

She dances in it

She scorns the idea of sitting on the sidelines

Life, she says, is meant to be lived

So she splashes in the puddles

of adult reservation