Lonesome

You said you would return.

I had planned to wait til dawn.

I never expected it to rain.

I forgot to bring my canoe.

The water is cold here.

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Writer’s Block

Words bury me with their letters. Smooth lines and bleeding edges. Sink into my pores.

Empty words and heavy spaces.  Pin me down between blue lines.

White stained black with ink. Sinking in to make it something new.

Old words scarring over with jagged lines.

Cross it out. Start over again.