First Drafts<\/span><\/b>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019m an editor<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n An overthinker<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Everything I do is planned down to the word<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n To the syllable<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n For every hour spent writing<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Days, weeks scrutinizing each word like a detective<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n With you, though<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n There\u2019s no room to overanalyze.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I can\u2019t be the critic for art in progress<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n What is still unfolding so beautifully before me<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Like the map of\u00a0<\/span>this is where I belong<\/span><\/i>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I just create. I just live. I just write.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n That\u2019s the beauty of us,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n We\u2019re beautiful as my first drafts are<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Haphazardly spilled onto receipts and napkins in my glovebox<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Yet carved into my mind for evermore.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n You and I, we create stories together<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Synthesize memories that will live within<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n My leather-bound life\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n For years to come.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I love us as I love\u00a0my water-stained ideas,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n That strike me while driving or sitting in a classroom.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n We are so new that I know nothing except writing our story. Fresh.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n You are the thread binding together each moment of my life,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n You are the crisp white of a page untouched,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The\u00a0freshly-fallen\u00a0snow of my heart\u2019s deepest beliefs<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n What\u2019s unedited is unharmed.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Our story is one of scribbles of ink rather than crisply typed lines\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n You are the beauty of a messy\u00a0first idea,\u00a0of a dog-eared page<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Of each papercut lining my fingertips.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n You are my art<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The feeling so striking I must drop everything to write you down<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The bedside sheet of 2 a.m. inspirations never to see the light of day<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The stanza, the metaphor so lovely I scrap the whole poem just to keep you.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n You are the beauty of writing.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n You are why some thoughts are so beautiful<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n That grammatical sentences just cannot sum them up.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n You are the beauty of writing\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n And together, we make\u00a0my favorite sonnet,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The enjambment in the aubade of our lives.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Autumn Bartle First Drafts\u00a0 I\u2019m an editor\u00a0 An overthinker\u00a0 Everything I do is planned down to the word\u00a0 To the syllable\u00a0 \u00a0 For every hour spent writing\u00a0 Days, weeks scrutinizing each word like a detective\u00a0 With you, though\u00a0 There\u2019s no room to overanalyze.\u00a0 \u00a0 I can\u2019t be the critic for art in progress\u00a0 What is… <\/p>\n