My pen has been so heavy and dry for the past 2 years.
     I open up pages that I know are me but they feel so foreign to my lips...so I close them. I keep them from prying eyes so others won't rememeber, in case my strength never returns.
     This is what I've told myself...like a mantra...never truly revealing to anyone, not even myself, how disconnected I've felt. These words are not just creative letter compositions, they are my life force. They are as necessary as every breath I take, beat of my heart, food I eat....so what happened? Where did they ghost to? How could something so vital just dissipate then disappear?
     I tried excusing away my inability to write more than the date on the fact that I was just too damn busy, then even going so far as to say I don't need to write anymore. I'm not hurting. I'm not angry. I just don't feel as I did before the words slipped away.
     It's funny how high you can build a writer's block. Encasing your truth like a tomb until one day....just one impromptu meeting, knocks you both over with the force of a tsunami. Words ignite like fireworks then float around me like stars on a clear night's sky, whether my eyes are open or closed.
     I know SHE is the reason.
     I simply think of HER and am overwhelmed with the need to exhale. My lips pursed as if between whisper and kiss...then they appear.
     Words sliding across my vision like a news ticker...pressing on my chest from the inside to let her loose. Beating on my carotid to say her name just once....out loud...and gravity becomes obsolete.
     Rolling my pen between thumb and first digit....sliding across virtual keyboards...wet.