Truth is...

I come back here

time and time again. 

Trying so desperately to write. 

But when I try to. 

Thoughts of you cloud my mind. 

A storm runs through my head. 

Memories flash before my eyes. 

Sometimes I think this should inspire me.

That I should write about how you broke my trust. 

How you spit in my face when I was down. 

How you stomped all over me

took everything I had. 

How you left 

with no warning. 

How you blamed me 

for being a crappy friend. 

When I had tried so hard. 

Or how you said everything to specifically hurt me. 

But I cant. 

The words form in my head. 

Then curl back into their cocoons. 

They refuse to come out. 

For they say their beauty should be saved. 

For something worth writing about. 

So I stopped. 

I don't try to write about you so much. 

I write about what I want to. 

About how I feel so free. 

How I feel so alive. 

How much I love life. 

How excited I am to enjoy it finally. 

Maybe this silly writes block has a purpose. 

Reviews

[An owl on the moon]

There is such a painful shadow that drapes your words here. That link to past, pounding into your present. You express this with such an honesty and depth.