Paper, Pencil, Clipboard, Bed, Lamp.
Words.
Where are the words?

All of this raw emotion,
All of these insightful thoughts,
But the words.
Where are the words?

I imagine they’re on vacation, someplace tropical.
I’ve overworked them recently,
And I guess they deserve the time off,
but I miss them.

Maybe we’re playing hide and seek
But I just don’t know it yet
They want me to search.

What if they’re taunting me?
Sitting back somewhere, eating popcorn, watching me struggle
How dare they?

Maybe they’ve been trapped, kidnapped,
What if someone has stolen my words?

Maybe they’re just lost, trying to find their way back to me…
But there is some rift, some river, valley or mountain
preventing them from finding their way home.

Truth is… I don’t know what I’d be without my words.

So I glance away,
and when my eyes fall back on the page,

I realize they’ve never really left at all.