I stare at the paper.
It's like my head,
my heart.
Empty.
I want to write you anything.
I would like,
no,
I'd love to write you anything.
Something.
Something meaningful.
Just few words, perhaps.
But I can't.
I don't want to.
So I will not write you a word.
I just sit in the corner and cry.
How can a paper hurt me so much?