Sitting at the typewriter, thinking, what to write? Should I write of my lost love, the man who suddenly appeared and fulfilled my every need? Should I write a poem explaining how much I still love him even though he’s gone? Could I even express the sorrow I feel for losing him?
I’ve written about him before, in specific terms, height, build, eyes, those gray blue eyes that pierce my soul when I look, really look, into them. I’ve told stories of his charm, his cleverly written expressions, his wit that kept surprising me even after three years of contact? That was the original attraction, laughing at his witty remarks, liking his ideas of humor alongside my own. It drew us together.
And then, and then it became more. Almost an obsession, delving deeper into our feelings, backgrounds, how our personalities merged perfectly.
No, I don’t think I should.