Trying so hard to find the inspiration to write.

Tired of the heartless words I put on the paper, left to die.

It doesn't come alive the way it used to.

But there's so much inside of you I say to it.

You've been hiding your tears, your anger, your anxiety since so long.

If your tongue can't open up, why don't you let your hands take the burden?

Trembling it says, I'm scared. The things inside aren't to be released. They're toxic.

It doesn't matter I say. I'm tired.

Tired of writing lies, of writing about spring when winter never went away.

Of writing about smiles when I couldn't see them through my teary eyes.

Please let me know what's hurting?

Why it's always so dark in here, so gloomy?

Do you miss anyone?

Are you aching from a void?

Nothing is hurting, it's killing, it says.

There's light but it won't spread.

The only person I miss is you.

You who never had to ask for my permission to open up.

You who smiled through me.

You who let out everything when I became heavy.

I miss you, dear girl. And I can't let you in unless you decide to barge in.

Stop staying aloof and playing your own part.

Broken, despaired said my heart.