i haven't been able to write lately
haven't been able to place my finger on a single, fleeting emotion
before it is whisked away into nothingness
the vocabulary within me is surely going to waste
as i grasp at straws in attempts to make them grow into beanstalks
these days, i'm not sure if i'm happy or sad,
but the uncertainty is enough to keep me busy for now
i'd rather not know one side more than the other,
but what i do want to be sure of is how you feel about me
i can be the goddess of the sun of your tantalizing universe
or i can be but a speck of dust leftover in a dark recess of your mind
and you can be either of those to me,
but in the end, i'll always prefer warmth over isolation