Time Passes

Time seemed to stand still. Sitting with pen in hand unable to truly process what was occurring. To others, she appeared calm, yet deep in thought. Internally, release was needed, hence her effort in picking up her pen. Usually this was enough to nudge her into puncturing the emotional bag to allow thoughts and ideas to trickle. Some pressure relief was better than none.

What was holding her hostage this time? Heart and mind in cuffs. Seems to be a norm these days. Too much on her agenda, not enough poured back into her, and yet still optimistic. Maybe that’s what her body is desiring, someone or something to pour back into her as she does into everything else. Is that too much to ask? Maybe she needed someone to give more for once.

Barriers all around. Barriers to writing. Barriers from a “universe that can be wonderfully cruel”. Unable to love. Unable to be… Abandoned thought. Moving forward. Cruelty in its finest serving of platters of… frustration, temptations of what can’t be, heart strings of understanding others yet them failing to do the same for her, non-restorative sleep, desiring more and believing in the best yet unable to find the balance without having to go through a storm that proves… futile… fruitless. When does her sun shine favorably… Time seemed to stand still. Pen still in hand…