Writer’s Block

Writer’s block feels different now than it used to
A younger, wiser in some ways, version of me found it challenging to settle on an idea.
She found inspiration, color, joy, purpose, and meaning in the most mundane experiences.
Now
I’m so overwhelmed by the idea of color
That some deep purple,
or maybe maroon,
place within me
holds my fingers back
from forming
words
in
the
coldest
pale
blue
way.

Letters, now accessible with a button push,
Feel more red to create
Than they were when I was limited by the physical speed I could scrawl them onto the page.
Colors come in bursts now.

They used to come all at once, all the time, I think.

It is hard to remember
When I felt so yellow in my thoughts that they spilled out effortlessly
Or maybe
It wasn’t yellow.
Maybe it was

Orange.
Warm, soft, sunset orange.

An orange knowing that I had something to say, and a blue sense of determination that my thoughts were worth recording,
Just for my own bright, bold, purple satisfaction.
I wonder when I stopped trusting that every color was worthy of savoring.
I wonder
If I will
feel that
beautifully
multi-colored
ever
again