Heather Watkins
Bio
I'm thirty. I have three children and I love writing. Writing to me is like music for my fingers. It's the best key way for me to express myself as well as for you to truly understand me.
Stories (2/0)
The Sunset Roams
Through the lens, you can always see the clearer picture. The delicate outlook on true meaning of this fine remarkable life. I've always sat on that fine bitter line where most people you hardly notice stand. The quiet girl with the most meaningful things to say but yet she remains quiet in fear that nobody will truly understand her. Tugging at the end of my clothes at the most inappropriate times. How I can so simply annoy others with the silence when I have nothing left to really say. The glances that I give myself as I pass by a mirror as though it's there to literately mock me. Taunting me, questioning whether or not I should be proud of who I've become as a person. Walk through the darkest aromas in my life. Where pity lays ahead with questionable doubts. Even that tunes out the sound of my breathing as I try to gasp the reality of what life really even means. The tension builds up as you finally let go of the grip and just dance to the beat of life. Dance until the spark of the sunset shines through the cracks of what really is missing. The smell of simple truth through soft tenderness of some afternoon quickie. That ever lasting heartbeat that beats so carelessly as you lay awake at night counting the fragile tiles across the ceiling above you. How easy it is to over think such small things that might not mean much at all. You can already smell the truth as though you would delicious freshly baked goods in the bright early morning of some crowded Saturday, surrounded by people you try to distant yourself from on any other day. Coffee, I pass on, I'm much more a caffeine chick, myself. Slowly sipping away as I gaze out into the open scenery of what is ahead. In life we learn. Not just from our mistakes but the simple things that we come across on our way to whatever Journey that might be ahead.
By Heather Watkins7 years ago in Poets
