A dusty unfinished novella, sitting unloved on my desktop,

Awaits the pause of the cursor, the little feedback high

It gets from a click to open.

Waiting patiently for the cursor to reopen it,

As its ideas gather dust in my mind.

Sometimes, the cursor might hover over it for a moment,

And it will feel loved,

And hopeful for its life to be continued, and fleshed-out.

But its hopes are dashed against the rocky cliff of time,

As memories of plot and characters fade until,

One day, it gets selected again.


by zeusfireair


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