Even your post reads like poetry. Sharing these intimate feelings and thoughts with us itself becomes art. That ending: making love with pain. Is not all art and poetry children of pain?
I remember my own poetry journey, now that you asked it in your title. My words were born from frustration and inner plight and struggles. Poetry became the tamed version of the violent struggles but it became itself violent words.
I think a lot of people struggle with themselves and poetry becomes the only vehicle to get your message across.
Thanks again for sharing your intimate words.
I have the beauty of letting my soul sinh however it deems fit... I may have wanted to rid my emotions from my writing but then again that makes it incapable of doing what it does which is heal my inner child.
I would love to hear that whole story some day even if it's not today and how the journey has been this far.
Oh how I wish we could all wield writing like most healers but I get the complexities of staring at yourself on a screen or a paper full of words describing the what lies beyond the fixed smile.
I am glad you find them interesting enough :)
Maybe one day I will get to reminisce in an autobiographical sense. My mind is slowly forgetting my past so I need to write it down.
Maybe in writing the past we might heal our future? Do you think that works to heal?