The Word Aren't What I Want

My eyelids stay together

every blink

a little longer than usual wishing

I were still asleep

I don't remember not sleeping

last night

but I guess

that's just the way it is

first block

of the last day

of a short week

and I'm tired.

And the words,

they don't flow

like they used to

and I'm not old enough

to be run out of sentences

but not young enough

to not know how to make words

come out

and it used to flow like rivers

but I guess the rain stopped

this summer

for a while,

and I guess

it came back too.

And the books I read this summer

are still on my desk

not my friend's bookshelf

and I keep meaning

to give them back

but she probably doesn't mind

and I remember when I read

a book a day

two months ago.

My tan's fading now

from bathing suit straps

and salt soaked curls

in equator sun

and it was cold enough

to bite my face today.

This summer

I had words for notebooks

and energy till ten on sunday

and a book on my lap.

And now I'm tired

first block

and I haven't written in a week

and the words aren't what I want

but they're words.