I'm constantly moved by words, How intricately they present a push and pull between syllables and emotion. I'm such a lover of literature and stories in their depth, vulnerability and humour. I'm equally in awe of the power they carry in intent and expression. I penned down words, a freedom hymn, telling of a place beyond my fears. Crossing the peaks and depths in which I fear loss, loving, longing and loneliness. I sit still in the confrontation with these words staring back wondering how freedom could be painted by everything that it's not , even synonymously. I'm reminded of the bliss I felt when I was reassured that I was loved. And I'm yanked to the pulsing feeling of betrayal almost at the absence of this expression as I wonder if it really was love. I try to tell you of love and I tell of its absence, wallowing in times past and the rising fear of loss with each new hello. Loving can be so scary as you dare to love whole heatedly, putting yourself at an...