Writing is Life

Blue stone with green flecks. I always see it in the dark pages of my closed eyelids. I see it as I’m slipping away in a silent sleep. I see it just before I meet him, and him.

It’s been eight days since I was last called someone’s “only.” I think I left my heart in dreamland and I suspect she’s never coming back. I haven’t dreamed at all, making the nights just as dull as the days. My words are now colorless and leave a bitter taste on my tongue when I speak.

I take to my writing in times like this but I fear my inspiration is severely lacking since I’ve lost all and any musings that once filled my missing heart to the brim. But still, I sit and write every night and then I discard every last word.

The only thing more difficult than letting go is holding on to something that’s already gone. That’s what I’ve been doing with my Grandmother’s necklace. I hold it close to feel her spirit alive in me, but she’s gone and I can never bring her back. Neither can this piece of jewelry. That’s all it is. It’s just jewelry, nothing more. She treasured it like it held her heart within it’s shiny blue green rock. But it’s not special and neither am I. I’m thirty-one and it’s time I stop believing in fairytales.

Here I am, an established writer, making up stories for the world to read and believing in tales I make up in my sleep. It’s just, the love, the touch, it all felt so real. It’s hard to fight feeling with logic when you’re the one feeling everything.

A compilation of a few excerpts from my first novel. Now that it’s complete, I’m back to writing poetry and one of my poems will be featured on Harness Magazine’s website on May 8th. Check them out for daily posts from strong women reaching out to other beautifully strong women and look out for my piece called Crushed. Thank you to all my wonderful followers for taking time to read my work and hello to new visitors!

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