I Wish I Could Write More

Sometimes I wish I could write more.
Like good stuff.
Stuff that spins — like warm cotton candy in the artificial wind.
Stuff that flows through your mind — as smooth as oil over water,
As smooth as a vanilla milkshake.
… Or that millionth kiss that is as good as the first but at the same time a million times better …
I want to wrench hearts.
I want to wrench minds.
I want to make a difference.
I want to change your life.

Sometimes I wish I could write more.
Like bad stuff.
Stuff that burns — like salt on raw skin.
Stuff that could make you sting — like alcohol poured into your wounds.
The sharp pain that shoots through your body that leaves you to do nothing but bleed in response.
It hurts like my handful of pills.
It will make you die a million deaths to be conscious of one life.
Being broken — and put back together again with words.

Sometimes I wish I could write more.
Like lip-biting, like nail-digging, like me-screaming! stuff.

Stuff that has no place.
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© S. Amanda Clevinger