It’s not even midnight, but I hear it rolling through.
When I hear that night train, I always think of you.
The dreams I had, the plans we made, it all got lost somehow.
I try to forget your kiss, but I can taste you now.
The echo of the night train.
The memory of your touch.
The magnetic connection.
The ethereal rush.
Release me from this reverie, let me please let go.
Night train, take his memory, he doesn’t have to know.
Ugh!!! Can I open with that? Well, tonight I am.
I am so frustrated. I write. Then rewrite. Then edit. Then write more. Ooops go back and rewrite. Damn, now edit that part. When will the story just flow? When will this get easier?
Perhaps I need to get back to where I started? Go back to that place where it all began. But that will just dredge up old memories, that as a person, I have fought to bury deep in the past. As a writer, though, I need to bring them back.
Now it’s time to get serious. It’s time to make this happen. Has anyone seen my shovel? It’s time to start digging.