Sometimes I wonder if I have mistaken my feelings for poetry.
If the words, I put together are nothing more than thoughts dressed in pretty sentences.
I wonder if a poet is someone who knows exactly what to say, while I find myself questioning every word before it ever reaches the page.
Perhaps I am not afraid of having nothing to write.
Perhaps I am afraid that what I write will never be enough.
That someone will read my words and see nothing where I hoped they would feel something.
To spend so much time trying to make someone feel something through words, while quietly wondering if those same words are worth feeling at all.
I call myself a poet.
Some days, I just wish I believed it.