Never Finished

I tend to get these bursts of inspiration.  These scenes in my head that I need to get down on paper.  And I do and they’re just that – a scene, nothing more.  So I have hundreds of these snippets of stories I started and never finished.  Here is one:

“I don’t even know what love feels like anymore.  Did I have it with Joe?  With Mark?  I thought I did, but it went away.  Can love really go away?  And it’s never the way it is described in books and it hardly ever looks the way it does in movies.  So how do you recognize it?  Is it that feeling you get when you look at them and you only want to touch them to make sure they’re real and your throat closes up a bit as if you were going to cry when you find out they are real?  Or is it the feeling of comfort when they walk ahead of you in a crowded room and they reach behind with their hand only for you to take it?  Is it the excitement when you hear them say they told someone about you?  Or the flattery when their friends tell you that he is really into you?

“Of is it all of those, always?

“I think about how maybe I should just go with the flow and see where fate takes me, but fate broke me before and if I had only stuck with my fears and inhibitions I wouldn’t have had to spend so much time picking up the pieces.”

I don’t remember when I wrote this, at least 10 years ago.  Not really a poem, I know, but I said I would share my old writing so here you are!  I’ll try to find something more poetic for next week!