Writer’s block has hit me once again. Ideas fallen through, glass half empty, metaphors worthless, rhymes are hopeless. Every word written has been erased. A blank mind continues at this pace. Sluggish reading, unbelieving, downward progress, I’m voiceless.
I long for the day. I can wake up. Without longing for you. Please. I can't take anymore. Mornings with tears in my eyes. Because. I couldn't roll over and look at yours. Looking into mine.
