The Puzzle Paused

Ink smudged where my palm rested,

words half-written,

stalled like a breath caught between sighs.

I trace fog on glass with a finger,

watch the answer slide just out of reach.

The pen stops, empty spaces

cracked like dry earth beneath my nails.

Across and down,

a half-made map of the mind,

a word left waiting

in the crease of the page,

waiting for something I lost.

Unfinished,

a silence filling the room

more stubborn than any riddle.