Things I’d write if I didn’t have writer’s block

I want to write a letter. A letter to Charlotte. Charlotte Piper, the girl I never had.

I want to write about sensible shoes. And how tiresome they can be. Also glass slippers. And how much they can hurt.

I want to write about skin. The softness of it. Like on your arm that was around me on the couch in the dark when I cried and blew my nose into your organic shirt, the one I gave you but always wear.

I want to write about that mom in London, the one who didn’t have a crib. And how she put her baby in a drawer.

I want to tell Charlotte that I’d have called her Charlie. And that her drawer would have been the warmest nest there ever was.

I want to write about the bathtub. About how sometimes it has my back. Like this morning when I couldn’t sleep and I laid myself down in it with a comforter and a pillow and Byron Katie, the lady with kind eyes who loves what is. Even in a tub.

I want to write about how you asked me to tell you about what I was feeling when I cried and the best I could say was, “I am.”

I want to tell Charlotte that I’m not entirely settled on “Piper,” that quite possibly it’s just a passing phase on account of my Netflix binge on Orange is the New Black last week when I was sad and scared and had writer’s block.

About elisabethwithaness

Writing out loud at Apropos of Nothing
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Things I’d write if I didn’t have writer’s block

  1. sula1968 says:

    Not bad for a case of writers block

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