Wordless. (To writers and lovers)

Back in college, my professors taught me to avoid clichés at all times. This piece was my exception.

Clichés are such because, for the most part, they’re true. But this particular one offends me. As a writer, my goal is to combine actions and words. I want to move people with my poetry. Whether it be physical movement, spiritual, metaphorical. My goal is to start “a movement” in general.

I also realize that the action itself will continue the cycle of inspiration. Actions > Words > Actions > Words. So I have no reason to negate one or the other. Maybe they speak at equal volumes–with one speaking louder than the other at times, balancing each other out in the end. Take the action away, and my writing would be worthless. I would be “Wordless.” (Yeah, I totally pulled a Dr. Seuss on you, and made that word up. I love it.)

Collar. Bone. Kisses

“The sweetest thing I’ve ever known, was like a kiss on a collarbone…”

Every time I listen to “Sweetest Thing” by the Fugees, I pause for a moment, sigh, and think about the moment his lips miss my neck and land on my collarbone.

I have flashbacks of inside jokes, tears of laughter. Phone kisses. Talks at two am, and heartache so deep, it bleeds through my cotton t-shirt, down into my mattress.

This piece is for every lover who’s ever felt that sensation of part-paradise, part-hell without ever having left her bedroom. For the lovers who see their partners not as an escape, but as an entrance to a place where they meet their insecurities half way, and whisper,  “He brought me here to face you.”

This piece is for you.

Abet Speaks