If time could be measured in words

I would handwrite novels until my knuckles bled

Analyze every single piece written by Steven King twice

Type poems so complex so that the meaning gets lost

Construct every screenplay to give you the ending you deserve

Switch my major to songwriting and throw in a full-on band

Become a motivational speaker to find the right tone

Scream the lyrics at a rock concert so loud they land on the stage 

And whisper to myself that I’d find the right words eventually

I’d find the right time eventually

I hope you know that as much as I love words

there are not nearly enough perfect ones in existence

And there is not enough time left for me to find them

You know my voice as well as you know your own

Who knows, maybe you even hear me in your head sometimes

So just imagine the syllables coming out in that fragile way I always let them go

These words are made of glass and if they shatter

it will sound a lot like my headspace while writing this

To the women of many words; to the women who can alter time:

I found a home in you in room 502

Each and every one of your stories deserves to be heard by the world

And the stories that we sculpted together still stand as a monument to who we will become

as our plotlines wind down unknown alleys and onto sacred grounds.

I would write forever if it meant our story could withstand the tests of time

And I think I will