Suddenly, winter has arrived. Every bone in my body aches to flee to warmer climes. I wish I were a swallow.
Failing that, I have been looking to purchase a SAD lamp. No doubt the consumerist adrenaline rush will help me out just as much as the increased wattage.
I haven't been writing in this blog at all lately, because I am using up all my computer time and creativity on writing a novel. Before I spring said novel upon the unsuspecting world, I thought I should practice the pain of random strangers seeing things that I have written (are you a random stranger? - why hello, thank you for dropping by).
This is a poem I wrote a long time ago. Perhaps after reading it, you will see why I decided poetry was not the form for me...
smoking on the back porch
looking for you amongst the nicotine
just another person who doesn't know
deleting you from my quick numbers
the sunny day doesn't seem to suit
standing awkwardly with strangers
carrying the coffin out of the church
bruising myself on every pew
lump in my throat
choosing a flower I like
never to know if you like them now
saying goodbye in the biting wind
wishing you were here
just one more time