Inked

A Project, gathering dust Stored away for no eyes to read; “Not yet- It’s not finished” Writer’s block makes the way difficult -going up stream without a pencil- Worried about editing, Worried about missing pieces. How can you connect the beginning and the end? Worried if it’s too cheesy, Worried if it’s to fake, Worried that it’s not far-fetched enough to be fantasy. But you love these characters Each holding a piece of; Who you are, Who you were, Who you want to be. You can hear them chattering -in the back of your mind- Practically unnoticed As other projects must take Precedence. Soon, but never soon enough you’re back: Click, click, clacking Tick, tack, typing Desperate to know; Where shall they go? Who will fall in love? Who will fall out? It’s as much a mystery to you As you hope it will be to Them. Eventually it’s typed But that’s never THE END