Block

There's a blockage.

The eloquence of my words
has fallen apart in the execution,
and when my heart yearns to speak,
nothing ever comes.

There's a blockage.

Each day filled to the brim,
yet nothing can be squeezed out
of this metaphorical creative stone.
I long for my voice.

There's a blockage.

Five

Dear Mr. Blue, 

I've tried writing you this 

haphazard, scatter-brained letter

for days now. 

The right words don't come, 

and though I strive to write to you 

with eloquence and grace, 

my only words are harsh and blunt. 

I long to gain that honesty 

but I can't tell what's truth anymore, 

and I want to think what I feel, 

but I don't know that I have a heart to feel with. 

All these things I wish to tell you, 

that you may or may not wish to hear,

are now lost. 

Even more painful 

than the confusing of my heart, 

is the taking of my words. 

Yours, 

Eleanor