She is still with me: Inspiration. She gently breathes the words into me. This white angel, does she come from heaven or from hell?
And now she even keeps me out of my sleep.
I ask her to leave, I don’t want her near me here. I tell her to go bother someone else.
This heart drown in pain doesn’t want to swim to the surface no more.
But she is still there, she smiles and invites me into her space.
I put my hands over my ears.
I don’t want to hear the words she blows to me.
I close my eyes.
I don’t want to see her flowing source of light.
I cover my heart.
I don’t want to feel how her touch has opened it.
But even then she is still there.
I tell her I can’t do it. I can’t do what she asks of me.
But she only smiles and then slowly whispers in my ear:
Write… just write