Starved

I couldn't pick up a pen, I couldn't look
at paper.
[ I couldn't bare my heart.]

I could only think of you, of work, of underground subways, of worries,
of time, of where I
was going /meant to go

I couldn't

I was distracted by

loud noises
flurries of thoughts
everywhere

even now
I cannot think
but the feeling of a
pen
in my hand,
my soul aches for
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4 thoughts on “Starved

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