You used to come so easy to me,
and now I can hardly get a phrase out.
I string together a few letters
and a gust of wind blows them away
higher than any kite in the sky,
but I can still see it.
I yearn for the writing high,
that ache filled.
I crave the feeling of accomplishment
when finishing a piece
and having nothing left to exhale.
It seems like I can’t even
breathe out anymore
with how much my words are trapped.
And it hurts
to not be able to write
something so simple
and hugely complex.
I miss it.
Ask me to write a scholarship essay,
I’ll have it to you in 20 minutes.
Quiz me on Gutenberg printing press influence on the Protestant Reformation in a short answer essay,
I will provide exquisite details bringing a tear to any teacher’s eye.
For my own pleasure,
write a poem or chapter in my novel.
. . . nothing . . .
If I didn’t know better,
I’d think I have forgotten how.
And the little inspiration
I have had