My process

I suppose that I should write
After all, it’s what I profess to be
A writer

But seasons pass without our meeting
My feelings hide
There’s a difference between prose and poetry
I am vulnerable here
Exposed
There is no hiding behind a character
No plots to distract

Here, there is only me
Raw and confused
My process
Let it be written

Copyrights @ 2016 Maricel Jiménez Peña

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