This is an unwritten post, a silence, a caught in the throat, the words in my head, the left unsaid. The scratched out, the scribbled, the scrunched-up, the came to nothing. Doodles in the margins, around the edges. Gazing out there, up there, beyond here.
A quick game of Hearts, a glance at Facebook, Twitter. A cup of liquorice tea, a mini Battenberg. Portrait of a fountain pen as a drumstick, a cheerleader’s baton. And when the nib made a hole in the page it must have looked like the Alien bursting through Sigourney Weaver’s stomach. Reflecting on the destructive nature of weariness, the unsurprising spirals of doodles, the disappointment of bite-sized cakes.
The post that never was, the unfinished sentence, the trailing off into….the losing track….the lack of focus…. the change of heart.
Space where a post should be. A gap. An unfilled sandwich. An empty tea cup. An unpoured drink.
When I think of something, I’ll be back.