Brief Letter to My Ex

Are you still there?

After all this time…

I believed that you left our dreams by the waste side

I was under the impression

That you had forgotten the outline of my face

Locked in a different time

Dictated by the contradictions of an unknown place

It’s good to see that the impression of my love

Is still on your mind

Still… I’m surprised

That your heart wasn’t capsized

And captured by another

Years later, you see me as a friend and former love

For that reason and so many more,

I wish you well

I want you to have more friends than you can count

And more stories than you can tell

You deserve the moon, stars and the night sky they sit in

Because your kindness is indicative

Of a person that should always win

So despite our separation,

I’m pulling for you

I want to see happy and healthy

While in pursuant of a good life

Never settle for a person that’s not treating you right

Because your wild ex-girlfriend said so!

Love always, Esha

The Mission of Writers

Pic by SamuelFrancisJohnson

Writing is a nasty business. One minute you're speaking with your whole heart. Baring the issues of your soul on a white paper that seems endless. The next minute your words dry up like a shallow puddle of water on a hot summer’s day. The words fade to black and the feeling of flowing letters pulsating through easy fingertips slips away.

We sit with open palms writing for the pleasure of the moment. Praying for the eyes of excited readers to scan the lines of tactful words. We are not titans. We are bearers of empty yet hopeful words, subjects added to verbs. Creating sentences you never thought of but every portion read touched a sensitive nerve.

We fly like oceans swiping over wet dreams. We move like clouds rolling too high. Fighting for an opening to a sentence. Working towards a period that never dies. People have limited lives but the feelings they provoke live on.

Count me among the nameless writers who gave up but kept on going. Never knowing if anyone would read. Because they couldn’t change the world. And the successful are defined by monetary greed But the starving artist is defined by need. 



Love always, Esha