Blinking

The cursor blinks provocatively. It blinks as if to ask, to beckon, to invite--and yet all I have to type is this:

I miss him.

Blink on cursor;

beckon and eventually I will write.

an inversion

The world has suddenly turned upside down

What I thought was solid ground has suddenly erupted from beneath my feet. I quake, my body shakes, my eyes, no longer swollen, are dry from fatigue. And yet I love and would rather feel this greatest amount of pain, than to never have fallen in love in the first place.

I am sad; this pain is real; the devestation is overwhelming

And still I love him.

And still I crave what might turn out to only be a dream.

While I am stuck in the middle of the present, I will await the future that while unclear is still clearly the future.