remember

spent all night trying to remember

your face. couldn’t seem to

quite

make it out.

fuzzy shadows and

blurry, vague images

filled my mind.

all I could remember was that

yours

was unlike any face

I had ever seen.

- k.n.

things that are nice

holidays and lazy mornings mean coffee and writing and daydreaming. my heart is happy.
xo, k.

strangers

sometimes

strangers

fascinate me.

I find myself

distracted

by them.

I find myself daydreaming

and imagining

who they are.

what are their stories?

that young man

over there

sitting alone at the coffee shop —

he’s studying, cramming

for his next exam,

living from paycheck

to paycheck. waiting,

waiting for the day when he will

finally

let go of his fear and

chase his dreams.

that young woman

over there

sitting alone on the other side

of the coffee shop —

she’s reading, trying

to lose herself in a novel,

to forget about the pain.

she’s confused and scared

and lonely, but she will be

the last person

to admit it.

and sometimes

I wonder

what would happen

if they both looked up

at the same time

and their eyes met

just once.

writer's block

my fingers dance over

the keys, hesitating —

pausing, uncertain, as my eyes

search the blank wall before me

for a shadow of inspiration, and I

wait for the familiar shock

of creative energy to run

through my veins,

for the words to flow smoothly

and create sentences, paragraphs,

chapters. but

I cannot.

the words will not come, and I

blink rapidly, confused.

my fingers still dance, and I

still search, and the words still

do not form coherently, cohesively.

where did she escape to —

that elusive, secretive, mysterious creature

named inspiration? for I cannot

seem to find her

anywhere.