bleeding

I want to write for pay.

I stopped writing poetry after I graduated from high school. Didn’t pick up the pen for a poem again until after my first year of college. I had been severed and the pen drew back the stitches that eventually healed up my wounds. But writing poetry, journaling, writing scholarly papers for my degree – it’s not enough.

I’m salivating from cover to cover over someone else’s name printed on the spine of a book. I lust for the breeze of my pages being flipped, fanned. Give me the ink, bleeding through the binding, beauty.

But I’ve been censoring myself. Writing in my journal instead of writing here, because I feel like what I write is too scattered, too thoughtless, and certainly not blog-worthy. I hesitate to even write that I haven’t been writing because it seems trivial. And I’ve purposed in my heart to publish my poetry by the end of the year. That’s so soon…

Does anyone know where I can submit some of my more polished poetry?
I haven’t made that effort in some time, and I think it would be good for me.

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