Each poem
each message
deleted
one
after
the other.
The words don't flow freely anymore,
now slow and sticky
not flying out my fingers in their regular way.
I can't make it work
I'm not passionate enough
I already have writer's block,
now this?
I need to let it out somehow
and I found an exit through poetry
but if I can't write poetry anymore
if I can't summon the emotions
how will I get it out?
I am tormented by slight movements
even silence is hurting me
reality seems to be strobing
or something like it -
I've yet to learn how to explain these moments to others,
even myself.
It's not normal,
This is the worst kind of anticipation
this anticipation isn't just fear of what is to come
it's laced around the edges with knowledge of how it went last time
of how a repeat of last year is most likely inevitable.
You two have entered my life at different times
yet you both mean the world to me
I dread separation -
the battle between boredom and loneliness cancels out everything else and I miss your everyday comments on the world
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