Pick up truck love
the cabin smoke was
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.
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.