what else did we have to hold on to/ other than the messages we shared/ or the old and newish memories/
As I entered, momentarily gazing/ at the many faces of those seating/ on the vehicle I would settle/ until our destination was reached
There are not enough words/ that can help you to see/ what sort of a person/ that you are to me/
I have a major case of Writer's Block, but not the kind you think.
There is something to be said about the power that beholds a human being with a pen in their hand.