PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It was just another unremarkable monday afternoon.  A cold November day that insisted on casting a shadow upon every wall, swallowing me up in darkness.  i finally relented, and pulled the curtains shut, located the lamp, and basked in the light.  After all, i had work to do.





Every time i looked at the blank page in front of me, i felt my mind look away.  Every possible distraction was relentless and unforgiving.  i felt my eyes wander to the clock once again, and leave with no knowledge of the time.  Every sound that the table made under the rhythmic tapping of my fingernails was a representation of the seconds that passed me by.  Time passed, yet i knew that something inside me was pausing the minutes, as i sat.  Time stood still inside my mind.  i knew that something deeper lurked.





It was then that i faced my fear.  it looked me in the eye.  She somehow managed to corner me, and i knew that she thrived on my discomfort.  It only encouraged her further.  She mocked me for my lack of concentration, and yet went on to plague me wityh things that would only allow it to become further lost.  Possibly altogether.





She had the face of someone so restless, sleep deprived, aching.  A caffeine fiend with eyes that reflected every moment of every day she'd spent awake, and every night that tormented her slumber.  Part of me wanted to embrace her, to comfort her, to reassure her.  Another part of me pitied her, and longed to grab her and shake her firmly.  To bring a hand up to her face, and cast it across her check, leaving a fresh shade of colour upon its relief.  i didn't care for her frown, or her scepticism, and wished that she would leave me alone.  To stop disturbing my thoughts, and leading my mind astray.





i knew that i needed to ignore her, as it was only then that i would not see her.  if i moved just a few inched away, i wouldn't have to face her.  Yet something kept me there.  A strange fixation that i grew to dislike more and more.  i knew all too well what lay behind those blank eyes, and it was the very thing that had distracted me to begin with.  That pulled me away from the work sitting on the table, a few inches away from where i now stood.  it was she who controled my every thought, my every move, the motivation behind my every action.





i decided to let her wait.  i was growing increasingly tired of the way in which she could control me, and the shame that this so often brought me.  i would address her needs later.  For now i had to devote myself to something else.  i had to be productive, constructive, and ignore the thoughts with which she had used to prevent me from bringing pen to paper.  i craved the rare and sweet sound of silence.





So i turned away from the mirror i stood before, and disregarded my reflection.