so dip your pen in blood, and write

i write because i don't know how else to make you understand me.
don't look me in the eyes when i talk, or i will look away.
i don't know how else to show you that i am here, that i am real, that i have something to say, that i need you to listen...
so look at the words spilling across the page, dancing across the page, reaching up and choking you because they are so full of meaning.
this is for the poetry jotted down on post it notes. this is for the love letters you keep in the box under your bed, too afraid to send. this is for the conversations carried out in bathroom stalls, that no one can understand but the reader and the writer.
this is for you.