I want to write soooo much. But I can’t. For some reason, since I’ve said goodbye to you — I haven’t been able to write. It’s just not flowing from my brain like it used to. Not like our conversations, 2 glasses deep into a couple of Stella Artois…dimly lit by the moonlight but hidden in our secrets. Those conversations coursing as naturally as the old creek nestled behind my great-grandmothers cornfield. Nothing flows as easily as that anymore.
Yet here I am, all white screen and blinking cursor…wine glass in hand. Wanting to write and not wanting to write, because every time I try, you are all that seems to come out.
But it has been so long — so long since I have seen you. So long since I’ve heard from you. Read from you. Learned from you.
It’s been so long that — my words are almost spent. Poetry will never be the same for me. I miss you more than I could have ever imagined.