This is a blank space.


I have just written “This is a blank space.” on the blank space.

Now, the blank space is no more.


Where is the border of your gate from the sidewalk?

And how do you know which part of the border is still yours?

Until exactly which part of the face is still called “chin”?

And at what angle in the horizon can we tell that the sun has begun to set?


If forty-nine people out of fifty got question A correctly,

Is that credible proof that the one in fifty is mentally-challenged?

How about if the same one in the fifty got the rest of the hundred questions correctly

And the other forty-nine got them wrong?


These are silly questions,

And I am a sad woman

Testing the limits of an unrequited love

Thinking till I cry, crying till I sleep.


How does one man know that they’ve got their stuff together?

How do they not know that it has just not arrived yet?

Do I know that it can and will arrive soon?

Well, damn.


I used to think I could write like the gods.

I used to have luck on my side.

I used to love how things just worked out for me.

I prided myself of my best and my complacency.


There is a mystery about the world –

How one can slump so low from a pedestal so high

And never even see it coming.

Who put people on that pedestal that sometimes one didn’t know how high above one stood?


And there is a mystery about people –

Like ruthlessness behind the sweetest of smiles

Or history behind an innocent face.

What made pedestals too high to hike and built craters too deep to climb out of?


What does it mean? What should it mean?

Three years tomorrow – I am thankful.

Three years gone by – I’m hopeful.

Three years. Three.


And I’ve watched my life go by,

And I’ve seen other lives go,

And I’ve known and not known things,

And I’ve had to forget things.


This blank space is filled now.

Surely, I should sleep now.

But what of tomorrow? How?

I can’t be sad, but I can’t be happy either.


This was a blank space.

Now that I have written on the blank space,

I can start again on another blank space

For this blank space is done.


But just because I’ve put it away doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.

Just because it’s in the past doesn’t mean it won’t matter.

Just because it doesn’t matter doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

It does. It does.


Just when I thought one thing, something else comes around.

Even when we anticipate consequences, we still fall in love.

Even when we prepare for it, we can still be unprepared.

My heart aches, this space is full, but my thoughts are blank.


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