I almost feel creative tonight, on the beach out underneath the stars, crickets singing out in chorus, grass rustling gently in the breeze. The lighthouse, in the distance, bringing ships in safe to harbor. I can hear the cars on the interstate, the distant crackle of a badly-tuned radio.

I can feel the sand between my toes.

And you, somewhere out across the sea, asleep, chest rising and falling peacefully underneath a blanket of stars. Or, perhaps you’re somewhere out there, on the other shore, looking out into the ocean and thinking of me as well, blue eyes reflecting the light of the moon, soaking in the shimmer of the stars.

Yes, I almost feel creative tonight.

You know, I almost feel as though I could write you out in a song, and sing it softly to myself when I get lonely here without you. It’s times like this when I wish my poetic words could weave themselves into something solid, something with substance.

But instead I sit alone by the ocean, with nothing but negative space.