Break Up.

The words evade me, of late. They tip-toe past the tip of my tongue when I race to work or sit with friends, but when I sit at the computer, nothing comes out. I discover old lovers in my box of sheet music; the notes ring  beautifully, but the meaning lies flat against the weighted keys. Time passes, as it will.

There is much to say, it will arrange itself in my subconscious eventually and march out like prose through my hazy eyes, I know it. But I miss the words while they are gone. I miss the way they calm my trembling nerves and the soft smile on my lips in their presence. I miss the way a chest full of words makes me feel like home, no matter the street where I sleep.

(When the truth is, the same can be said for you)