The day you left,
I forgot how to write.
I forgot the way it feels to feel my fingers wrap around a pen
and pour emotions in black ink into a white abyss of nothingness
filling it with words so that it doesn’t seem so empty
so terrifyingly alone.
Do you remember my fear of wide open blank spaces,
both dark and light?
You told me that blank white nothingness
is what it feels like to be at the centre of a star
just as it is falling apart.
I’m so sorry
I didn’t believe you.
I am there now,
and I know you weren’t lying.

"Why did you stop writing?"
"He was my muse and when he left, he did not only took my heart, but he took the one thing that kept me sane, the desire to write."

I see you in pieces of everything.
I want to disconnect for a decade.
Imagine throwing my laptop in the ocean
and hope you’ll wash away with it.
But you won’t.
It would just be a waste of a great laptop.

I read the last paragraph of my favorite book.
I remind myself that some things I love end.
And that’s okay.
I eat sweets.
I text my mother
and tell her i'm losing my head
And she says,
“Are you eating chocolate?”
Because she knows I am.
This sugar addiction is hard to kick,
just like you.
You are a sweetness I know
is bad for me.

You were there, so commanding
Do I have a deep understanding?
Have I made Chopin my own?
Somewhere in this music that follows these notes,
Do I exist?

From a stranger,
To someone I can't stop thinking about.
I watched you turn into a friend,
While the clock ticks at twelve.
The nights turned us,
To strangers who happened,
To have just met.
(But no),
We never met.
We don't have a clue,
About a thing or two.

Night falls,
Crashing down around me and you.
Carrying out an unnecessary unromantic subplot,
Figuring things into this dim lighted screen on my hand.

to be continued.

I want to write like you
so bad my heart kind of hurts
I want to move mountains
the way you do with your words.