I wish I could write

It’s been a long time since I have written anything. Words don’t seem to suffice how I feel these days. How does one explain silence in words? How do you force yourself to create the chaos of verses when you wish to write about quiet? How do you make the still flow and how do you measure the depth of an ocean of emotions steadily rushing past every moment? Words will never suffice. But I wish I could write. There are so many characters living in my head, my heart, my veins. They flow and burst and try to make themselves show on paper. I try to sketch them but I fail miserably. Only caricatures of my thoughts come alive. These characters breathe. I can’t always provide them with the oxygen they need. They put up a long struggle in my hands and then they die. I don’t cry when they do. I have other things I have to take care of. I move on and other characters fill the places of the ones that died. Will they die too? I don’t know. But I know this much, that if they don’t I will give them a soul, a body and love. Sometimes I wish to give them my blood. But alas! The words aren't red enough. Bold enough. Meaningful enough. They never will be. They never can be.