Just a blank page.
It's not a lack of words.
It's a refusal to be open to the initial inspiration.
It's an inability to remember how it was done
so many times before.
It's a paralyzing fear that the thing is gone.
No crush-caused ebullience.
No unrequited-based (relative) poignancy.
No heartbreak-induced gallows humour.
Only the word kryptonite that is indifference.
It's self-imposed pressure.
It's expectations echoing only in your head.
It's silly, but powerful.
It's a paralyzing fear that the thing is gone.
But, it's not.
It's
Just a blank page.