And after such a long silence
I find myself relearning
how to speak this language.

I remember days
when words would flow
effortlessly.

Now I must struggle -
must work to remember
everything.

It all keeps getting caught
within me. Trapped.
Nothing translates to paper.

I've created my own language
of loss and heartache.
Nothing translates.

I can no longer transform my pain
into something beautiful.
Something that glitters.

How can I make you understand
that I am empty without this.