Writing Is All I Have

I cannot touch you,

the reach is beyond a starry night

when the winds change

I can feel the loneliness ahead.

 

I took your picture down,

not to avoid looking at you,

just to give you peace,

my own well being a sweet demon.

 

If I cannot find a word

I write my own,

scratch out an idea,

replace it with anything new,

 

Anything that might help me lose

this urgency drives me to return,

so writing,

words are again and again and again

 

reminders and solace and love and respect,

desire and passion and worry and

unmet expectations

always asking, just, asking ….

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