I sit down to write to you..

Lumps of constrained sadness...I try to swallow
The heavy insoluble lump stays... recalcitrant

"Our love" I write...I strike it; The word "love" seems trite and hollow..
To define this formless and nameless verse,
That like liquid, takes shape and form of the universe.

I feel the clasp of this quarantined sadness....
The clasp hardens, crushing my soul..resistant

"I miss you"..I  write..Banal!.I elide it; The diaphanous phrase..hollow!
Vapid words that I struggle with your absence,
Ironically, I battle your presence, an all encompassing presence.

"Let us talk?"..I compose...and then recant it..Silence...
Yes, I did sit down to write to you..
"You" I wrote...