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By Jon Date: 2002 Jul 07 Comment on this Work [[2002.07.07.17.07.3656]] |
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I'm in that grey area right before the block. I know it's coming and I can feel the words slipping. I grab at them grasping them close to me but I know they are slipping through my fingers like sand. The spark, oh, the fire that once burned so bright is just a flicker of what it used to be. As I stare at the screen I grow frustrated with the ideas and words that used to come so easily to me. I used to hate you. Hate what you did to me. How you just left after all the pain we had gone through just to be together and then all of a sudden you were gone. But with your departure you gave me one last gift. The gift of the ability to write about how much it hurt. I fear of what would have become of me if I had not opened it. |