Poetry
My first true love was ink on paper. Letters lined up neatly on a piece of paper. The smell of a new book. Sentences scribbled into carefully hidden notebooks to caputure a fleeting feeling. I was, am and always will be in love with books. Since I was a kid, I would pour my heart and soul out on paper - just to find it again in someone else's writing. In fact, I got so obsessed with certain books that I would hide them from my sister, afraid that by reading them she might be able to take a sneak peek into the deepest chambers of my soul...