I have lost my sense of poetry,
My muse dashed the hopes I’d held.
I have healed some of the hurt
I allowed myself to be so exposed.
I let them rush in fast at me.
Talking every minute, every day
With someone for as long as I had.
I lost some of myself with them.
I took on a role too, I was king
Mr. In charge and she said yes sir
That’s how it went, heaven forbid
I fail to be in charge or fallible.
Each mistake I lost their respect
Ultimately lost them, though granted
With all women I have dated
It was I who ended it.
Being without her was hard.
It was being without the tides
but it made me think on things
On the uselessness of romanticism.
Aniya no doubt feels my wall.
The hesitancy I have in every step.
I love myself, that could be enough
but her love meant everything.
I have lost my muse.
No flowery poems of devotion
Flowing from my pen.
Words to be thrown away so easily?
How I envy simplicity
Almost wish I wasn’t an author,
A poet now.
Does she even care that I can’t
The Shade of Writing 