Love from the heart and soul

What makes my soul happy? What makes me heart smile? What inspires me to write?

     I love to take long walks on warm, sunny days. I love to feel sunshine on my face. I love to stay up late into the night, talking about things that matter with people I love. I love to smile. I love to laugh. I love to laugh until I cry. I love to be told stories. I love to listen to music, the kind that stirs the soul. I love to listen to Christmas carols in June and live my life completely out of order. I know no other way. I love to write early in the morning. I write about the first thing that comes to mind on any particular day. I write with honesty, I love with it too.

      I love to learn. I love to learn about anything I can, anything that anyone will teach me. Even if I don't understand at times, I love to learn. I love to lead my life in a simple direction. This is the heart of what I'm saying. I love to wake up early in the morning. I sit alone with music playing, and I write poems about the things that matter. This is my relief. I write about the pain that I wake up to, day in and day out. I write about the pain as if I am describing the one sitting next to me. Sometimes I am. Following pain come the life and the love. All these things go hand in hand. A summer after every winter. I write about the love that persists in my life despite the pain. I write about the love of friends, the love of strangers whose paths I hope to cross again, the love in the hearts of people I think so dearly of. I love so many people. I write about the love that lives in homes of some families. I write about the love that grows between lovers. I write about love. I write about life. In the end, there is nothing really left besides how you lived and who you loved. There will be nothing left besides what lived in your heart and what grew in your soul. Sometimes, on these early mornings, I don't write, but rather think and feel all that lives and persists in my heart. Life is so much. Everything feels like so much. I am drowning in a sea of color

     I love to love. I love to love those I love and those who don't come around anymore. I love the strangers I meet. I love the new horizons that I'm certain to meet. I fall a little more in love with those who love me, and seemingly moreso with those who bring me every imaginable hurt. My childish heart harbours no discrimination.

     I love to live. I love to breathe life into my lungs. Though, in all honesty, I do neither very well. I love the sun, the clouds, and the rain. I am in love with my own pain. There is truly very little I don't love at this point. I grew up too young (far too young), but at 17 I feel more like a child than I ever have. A child loves everything blindly, with excitement, and without reservations. Naively, but completely. I am okay with being this way. I live in a world of color. My love overflowing, my cup running over, my pain searing, and my days ever-passing. I live to love.