The Cursor

The blank page stares at me
expectant
waiting.
The cursor blinking
asking
what comes next?

And I have no answers.
Things are bubbling
stewing
but are not ready to be introduced.

I feel pressure to produce something
wonderful
exciting
poignant.
But the curser still blinks at me
disappointed
discouraged.

I understand because I feel the same.
Anxious
distressed
pining for brilliance.
Unable to take my thoughts and express them.
Unable to form a conclusion.
Unable to transfer anything,
filling the blank page.

So I sit, staring at that cursor
willing it to move
to speak.
But all it does is sit there
coyly winking at me.

February 17, 2019

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Is it Me?

I still remember your birthday. The name of your first love. Your greatest defeat. Your stories of childhood. Your struggle with Hebrew. The way you preached. I remember parts of your vows to me. Your grandfather's hand grabbing my ass. Your sister's elitest comments. Your mother's control. Your manipulation. Were there any good times? Truly good times? Or were they all manufactured...overworked. Like that sickly sweet aftertaste from cheap candy. Was I ever carefree? Was I ever comfortable? I was constantly performing, pleasing, sacrificing. Whatever you want... on the walls, in the decor, in the location, in bed. I was a good wife to you. I was. I was loyal. I was protective. I was accommodating. I loved until there was nothing left. I gave it my all, my everything, until the end. I am still so angry at how you so easily dismissed me. Like driving away to go out to lunch while I ran and screamed your name. Like your annoyance at the vows I lovingly painted above our bed. ...
Read more

Tickling

 I saw you in a picture the other day. I had to zoom in to make sure it was actually you because you're old and rusty. You were smiling and it made me angry.   Would you be smiling if I was able to tell you how my life changed because of you? Would you be married with your own children?  Would you be allowed to be alone with a child if they knew? How you lured me into your room and I went willingly because you were so much older and cooler.  I felt special because you took time to pay attention to me. Your blankets were waded in a pile on your bed and clothes were strewn around but I thought it was wonderful because it was a teenager's room and I had never entered one before. You had me sit on your bed and then began tickling me, which was innocent at first.   But then, your hands "tickled" places they shouldn't have.   And I froze.  I just laid there in terror.  I could have yelled and any number of people would have checked on me....
Read more

The Hero

You are the hero. You are the sun-shiny boy who has the world. You are he whom everyone loves as he makes them laugh. You are the boy, the heir, the one that will keep the name. You are the one who makes you feel important enough to speak to you. You are the one who holds all of the right answers and opinions. I am innocent, gullible, easily taken in. I am craving attention--someone to lift my eyes from the floor and show me worth. I am the one who just wants to be loved, seen, acknowledged, desired. I am abused and want to feel normal. I am willing to overlook if you'll say the right words. I am but a mere second in the cannon of your life. You were my hero. You saw me and offered me a place. You were my shining candle when everything went dark. You allowed me to stand on the podium with you as we sneered at everyone else. You took our life, my life, and dismissed it as worthless. You cut me apart and sprinkled every piece, every atom wherever. I was lost, desperate, alone. I sobb...
Read more