as much as I wonder,
I have nothing to write for you.
Some would call this progress,
until they see you in my eyes,
until they hear you in my voice.
Some days I wonder if this is temporary, if one day I'll wake up inspired, ready to hurt again.
And sometimes I truly believe that I'm in a new place, where I'm only troubled by memories.
But the thing about being is that you're free to move anywhere you wish, to be in whichever state you want.