I vowed never to write again. Or, at least said that to a frowny-faced Jeff and a frowny-faced self who felt stupid and ignored. Yes, it was a self-absorbed rant because I’m not alone in this. Yet, I feel like the alien all the time. Writing and writing, trying to find a place and something to do with it….watching others get it “like that” wondering how sans-magnetic I am.
But, I can’t ignore the push of a thought that turns into poetry. I can’t ignore the urge to shape stanzas about desired love and sensuality. And, I just did it. I just started to create yet another poem about the life and the love I want. It’s desire, my heart….not dreck. i might not be where I want and can’t use these damned poems as the career I want, yet….but the passion to write just about life itself…it won’t die.
I won’t take this budding poem as a sign of “keep going”. I see it more as a burst that just happened to present itself to me in stanzas. And, I just so happened to be at my desk half-dressed when it began to form itself. And, I just so happened to want to be loved.