by Jennifer Haddock
What do I do with this blank page staring up at me? Do I defile it with this ink? Inspiration is such a fickle lover, teasing me with fleeting kisses of thought and then leaving me, alone and unfulfilled. I could go after it, and try to bend it to my will. But then it would become limp and lifeless in my grasp. And I am left with this once blank page, stripped of its purity by my insipid ramblings.
Jennifer Haddock lives near Baltimore, Maryland and struggles with this more than one should.