I think I’m broken and I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know how to explain but I can’t think straight enough to properly write.
I don’t know why I’m telling you this but it feels good to let it all out.
I go through these weird phases through my day where all I could think about is our next conversation; our semi-philosophical talks about creativity endeavors, and our adolescent minds trying to find meaning in small things.
I would start to write a sentence and it would always start with a cold night; the type of night we decided to pullover and take pictures, the type of night that yearns for wanted company. I fiddle with words to recapture a scene. A close-up of my warm hopeless-romantic palms kissing your freezing passionate hands as you adjust the aperture on the display screen. There is an image that appears in my head that takes me back to that specific moment. No, not the one you captured with the DSLR camera – Although, that was great too – But the one I captured with the distorted camera in my mind. I struggle to find the words to perfectly illustrate the fluorescent moonlight that reflected off the stunted stream of water that was heading towards somewhere greater, and how it illuminated the sclera in you eyes. A shot captured through a tainted lens.
I think I’m broken and I don’t know what to do other than write cliché imagery about you.