a sunday night freewrite.
Updated: Mar 25, 2021
I used to write love poems. Did you know that? Nothing but love poems really. It was how I saw the world. They were about no one in particular at first.
Until I met a boy who gave me butterflies in my ventricles and that's when I wrote love poems. He changed the hues in the skies - all I could do was write. And when my body became a graveyard, I learned how to mourn. I haven't seen a love survive my grief. We certainly did not and even then all I could do was write. I've never collided with a page the same way since.
I get a little older. Met a man. Love poems were no longer for me to write, it seems. I spent more time thinking about the fact that once upon a time, I used to write love poems. Wonder what that girl who wrote about the galaxies would think of me. This woman who can't write love poems but knows that Saturns rings are a symbol of an intergalactic love story. Would she wonder what I was missing.
Now, I'm a little older than before. Back to thinking about a time when I used to write love poems. I'll blame the pandemic. Aim to confine this ache and loneliness to a global disaster. I haven't formed new memories with people in a long time so I spend a lot of time considering my old ones. I don't recommend it. Memories aren't meant to be the only company we surround ourselves with.
Is this how to become a ghost?
Drink some water. Wear a mask.