has it really been so long since ink graced paper? since fingers tapped keys in a pattern of linguistics – words falling after each other to form sentences, almost as if by themselves. have i neglected you this long out of my own so-called lack of inspiration or has it been fear keeping me from meeting you eye to eye once again?
can i not write as well if there is a smile upon my lips rather than tears streaming down my face – salty streams burning my flesh – and a knot within my throat upon which I choke? is it really so necessary that i be tragic or merely perceive myself as being so in order for words and phrases to lay themselves out in my mind in an emotionally charged pattern of speech?
or do i simply feel no need to shout it to the world now that i see life as worth living? could i honestly forsake myself so? do i have it within myself to cut my successes so short? so overlook all that i have gained rather than which i have lost and can do without?
though whether that day is today, i do not know
i will feel the need overtake me once more
raging in, powerful and deep
threatening my own internal combustion
able to steal the very breath from my lips
and self preservation will drive me
to release it all onto paper
or text onto screen
and my chest will rise and fall once again
cavernous and silent as all returns to normal
the moment passed
the emotion absorbing back into vein
like nutrients to a soul
feeding once more
building up that torrential downpour
which will once more beg for release
and i will have no choice
but to acquiesce