You’re stuck with phrases in your head
that will not coalesce, instead
they skitter into shadows where
your synapses can’t find them there
and figure out why they have fled.
They speak to you while you’re in bed
but memories of what was said
are gone and so you cannot share;
It’s not so much your muse is dead
or that your need to write has led
you down a path with words to spare.
Within that empty darkness, stare
at thoughts you merely wish to wed;