When I Think of You

As I sat here in my room, lost in my own world, time seemed to stand still. I had chosen to withdraw from the chaos of the outside world, seeking solace in the solitude of my own thoughts . With my pen in hand, I poured my heart and soul into my latest novel and poetry, content in the knowledge that I was creating something truly meaningful.

But then, like a bolt of lightning, thoughts of her invaded my mind. I tried to push them away, to focus on my work, but they persisted, nagging at me like a persistent itch that refused to be scratched. And so, reluctantly, I set aside my writing and allowed myself to be consumed by the memory of her.

I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, allowing the image of her to take shape in my mind's eye. I saw her smile, felt her touch, heard her laughter. And then, almost without thinking, I began to write again.

My pen flew across the page, each letter forming a word that described her beauty in exquisite detail. I wrote of her eyes, sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight, of her hair, cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk. I wrote of her voice, soft and gentle like the whisper of a breeze, and of her touch, electric and intoxicating.

But as I wrote, a sense of melancholy crept into my words. I knew that she was gone, that I could never be with her again. And so, with a heavy heart, I unscrambled the letters of her name and fashioned them into a poem that ended sadly.

I sat there for a long time, lost in my own thoughts, before finally picking up my pen once again. The memory of her still lingered, but I knew that I had to move on. And so, with a deep breath, I returned to my writing, determined to create something that would live on long after I was gone.