Words dancing in my mind. ******* on my tongue. My pen hesitates and nothing comes. I've been like this since you've been gone. There hasn't been a moment where the words I want to say flow out in a perfect way. I try to write the poems you loved so much but for some reason all this poetry turns to trash. I try to work on that story but it just seems so jumbled up and stupid. For some reason nothing is adding up together or the connections that are supposed to be don't fall to place. The words I need are meaningless and empty. And here I sit staring at this page, only ink stains remain.