Thing Two wanted me to write about Cheese today, but I just can't do it. I've got nothing and a million things to do today, so I'm leaving you with a poem.
Pen to paper
left unread
only ink,
words,
the alabaster page.
Spoken words
heard only
by the moon
and stars
and the blanket of night.
Arms reach out
left unfilled
grasp air
and wind
and empty spaces.
Solitude
there’s only me
my breath
my beating heart
nothing more.
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