Myriad of Incomplete Sentences

Everyday I try to write,

But the words refuse to come.

One phrase here, another there,

It’s a myriad of incomplete sentences.

 

Words too beautiful

I doubt I can make,

I guess I try so hard…

Truly for my sake.

 

Sometimes I wish I were virtual,

Like words in books.

In the hand of the right author,

They conform, perfect. Permanently.

 

I realize too painfully that

I am real. Flesh and Blood.

To live, I hurt, I love, I heal.

I am real.

 

Again, a pause. A  comma, a full stop.

It doesn’t continue, it is incomplete.

The words refuse to come.

It’s a myriad of incomplete sentences.