The coffee beans sit on my skin in a perfume of nuanced undertones of cloves and cinnamon. The sounds of steamed milk break my concentration…I’m having a hard time. I haven’t been able to put my ideas into writing. I feel like I have a story but it’s not quite ready yet. Several stories that aren’t quite ready yet. Maybe I’m not ready for them. Maybe they aren’t my stories to begin with. Regardless writing is hard when you aren’t writing every day. It’s also important to note that I don’t have the luxury at the moment to give my words the proper and safe space to come forth. Because words are fragile and sensitive and they need to feel warm and ready. I’m not allowing them to feel welcome. I stopped doing my work. Not all of my work but just this one. I’m sorry. Forgive me. This won’t be the first or last time. But I’ll be better than I was moving forward. I’ll say the things I want and even the things I’m afraid to say.
Apologies to the Muses