Time is made from honey, slow and sweet

Some nights she lay awake, restless in the darkness closing around her.  Unable to sleep and suffocating under the crushing regret of hurtful things she’d done to others.  This night, she wondered how she could have once been so selfish and immature to succumb to the temptation of a short-lived indulgence.  Her sight blurs in a tide of tears for damage done.  In daylight, she doesn’t look back because she fears the additional pain of knowing.  But during the night, her imagination plays those scenes in an endless loop that she can’t avoid.

To escape the cycle, she consciously reminisces about something good to sever the threads of her self-condemnation.  She can hear, touch, and see vividly in that flashback, feeling just as she did in that moment so many years ago.  Floating through the delicate reverie, it soothes her like a balm.  She can breathe without pain and is finally able to drift into a dreamless sleep.

Morning comes with wakefulness and renewal.  She can exist another day with her facade of having no regrets, until night penetrates her delusion once again.

Between vacation and other life happenings since, I’ve pretty much been phoning it in here on the blog with hops, memes and weekly features.  I just haven’t felt the inspiration to do much more.  I’d look at my extensive list of ideas for posts and just feel “meh”.  I saw the problem, but just couldn’t summon any interest in trying to fix it.

Today, I ran across the Daily Prompt on the WordPress sight:

Take the third line of the last song you heard, make it your post title, and write for a maximum of 15 minutes. GO!

Since MixTape Tuesday is my favorite weekly post, I figured I could do this prompt since it involved music.  And just writing.  Maybe it could lure me out of my slump.

I pulled up my last played song  and just listened to the music.  And listened again.  And one more time.  Then I gave up and looked up the actual lyrics for the third line since Tom Waits isn’t exactly known for his enunciation.

“Time is made from honey, slow and sweet.” 

I let the song play on, cleared my mind, felt the music, and began to write.  It didn’t go anywhere near where I’d originally intended it to go.

I’m not a Writer and had no intentions of even posting what I’d thought was just an exercise to get me motivated to be more personal here on the blog.  As I read through it, I started correcting grammar, mistakes in tense, and punctuation.  Somewhere in the murky waters of my mind, I knew I’d be hitting the publish button.  So anyone still reading just got to review my homework assignment.  And bear witness to me exorcising a few demons.

Dream Sig 3

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