Let’s
get into the numbers for a second, because the numbers sometimes feel
like the only thing that’s holding me steady when I write a book. If, at
the end of the day, I have written a certain number of words, arrived
at a new, higher total number than where I started the day, then there
is a measurable accomplishment. Do not worry about the quality of the
words in that moment, I tell myself. That is for late at night, alone
and nervous, the events of the day ticking through the brain like some
sort of ominous clock in a black and white movie. Allow yourself the one
triumph at the end of your workday. Here is this number. I made it
happen.
Poem #8:
- I took it for granted
- The times you stayed awake with me
- All night long.
- I made a mistake
- Of not embracing every moment with you
- As I can't now that it's gone.
Give me sunflowers, not the sun. Give me late night adventures, not late night promises. Give me a moment, not a lifetime. Give me your love, not your hope.🌻







