My Music

Sundays.

The sun shines, the wind blows, the leaves skip to a different beat. The way the clouds move and how the sun peaks through between the trees to the streets, how calm the universe seems to be. As if she’s resting and marveling at herself. The feeling of love you feel when the sun hits you; how nostalgic you feel of some deep love you’ve never met but familiar with the feeling; How free you feel, how at peace the sky seems to be with being in love with the moon and the sun just the same; the feeling you get when you stare up at the clouds for a long period of time, wondering what form they will take a mile down the roads, tempted to follow them just to feel as free.

That’s what music is to me. A love I can’t touch or contain. A feeling nostalgic but renewed with every note. No matter how many songs I’ve sang. Music is love. Music feels like Sundays, to me.

My Words

Lyrics usually spew out. Unplanned and easily alliterated. I usually freestyle and let the beat determine the emotion. My words are trees. Reserved for spaces large enough to handle the wind behind them. My emotions are raw. They are real. I am most vulnerable when writing them. How I know I’ve got the right hook? My mouth begins to taste sweet and I get this feeling like it’s Sunday...