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blogger
| ... | Sunday, November 13, 2005 |
first draft
i thought it would be
like writing a poem
where not putting pen
to paper
guaranteed quick
almost immediate
loss
but now instead
my head is a box of
thoughts, things
each waiting to be prompted
by something of you
i didn't jot you down
quick enough, the first time,
to keep you
but now that i have suffered
that one sharp burst:
your disappearance
i write you out
everyday, with no fear
of losing
what's left of you with me
(only memory)
and there aren't enough words
to keep you
from slipping
away.
something i felt the impulse to write, which feels very real to me. does this actually make sense to any of you? i might be on to something here. i might be able to start writing again, thanks to you.
+ posted by M @ 7:51 PM
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