Eighty Nine

Pick up truck love

the cabin smoke was

a spark

the darts and small talk stalling

parked off to the side of the Irish Pub

we kept falling

and still do

Whiskey doors and clasped palms

poured over me

deep breaths inhaling the

the clove and the hold

you have over me

Black tie spinning and drunken thoughts

pinning what the future would unfold

and I’ve never told you this

but holding hands with you is a privilege

and I’m glad you and I

found out we both exist.

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During my Junior year of college, I created this blog.  It was the spark that allowed me to grow in my writing and in many ways, life itself.  But this morning, I made the decision to begin anew.  I often think back on the child I was in college and how different my perspective was in almost every way, shape, and form.  It was a simple time.  It was a necessary time.  Those formative years became an experience that has led me to the path of the person I am still trying to be.  However, this decision to begin writing again has shocked me.  I have put this process off for any number of mundane reasons and refer to my writing as being ‘on hiatus’ but that simple word has grown into over a thousand days.  Feeling the need to write has been brushed aside and the shocking experience of logging into this account again has flooded my memory of the writing that used to be and how much I miss articulating the many thoughts that I have in a day.

Why have I forgotten this feeling?

Today I feel rejuvenated.  I feel less-compartmentalized.  I feel engaged with the person I am becoming.  I feel like a writer again.

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