I Miss Writing Poetry

I never knew I was a poet until I entered college. Most of the time I wrote about pain. My pain, normally from a relationship gone terribly wrong, fueled me to express my feelings in a poetic manner. I never knew sad language could sound so beautiful. Even though I was hurting, my poetry comforted me.

For a while now, I haven't been sad, depressed, or even hurt. I haven't written a "man hater" or a "God why me" poem in a long time. All of this can be attributed to two things: 1. I discovered a love for my Heavenly Father; 2. I discovered a love for my best friend (one of my best friends), my husband KB. I am happy. Im blessed. My cup runneth over. They give me a reason not to write--or rather, a new reason to write, but I find it much harder to write from this extreme than the other. I guess for a while now, I have associated my poetry with pain and anger. Now that I have a new schema for speaking methaphorically, expect to see a poem or two about being in love with love. ;-)