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