interlude

oh what i would do be madly, eloquently possessed again. the time when my fingers would just click on the keyboard and beautiful words would come out like the lingering scent of coffee, the time when i would churn out 2 or 3 poems a day, and languor in my own autistic world. now that i am part of the workforce, now that i am utterly in denial of love, now that i do what i have to do ...

... i don't know how to let go. it is torment, a sweet, dependable kind. like the beauty of a placid body of water reflecting my face. i can't help but look, can't help wanting to jump in. to just close my eyes and feel my breath on my face. closing in on the water. a slow, calm possession.