Craving the flow of words flowing from my mind to the page but they fall like ash, spiraling into empty space.
Tendrils like smoke float up to the light and I hold out hope that they'll finally spark and alight.
Yet I see them fade and disappear never to be seen and I feel the sting of fear creeping in.
I hold the flame and feel the tallow melting into my mind. Perhaps I can control the shame and tomorrow the words will appear unfettered and without any binds.
© Paula Mull/rockymtnpoet
November 14, 2019