When you’re so heartbroken that you’ve lost the will to write. And that person/situation just wrung out whatever creative juice you had left in you. When you were able to spin gold with your words, but now nothing forms in your mind but cobwebs. Your cathartic experience now held as a prisoner of war.


Won’t you join me and make this a table for two?

We can order whatever you want

Talk about what you love, and what makes you blue

Let’s skip the pleasantries

(May 2015)

To have and to hold, to let go and to lose.

Is it really ‘heartbreak’

When you heart has been broken over and over

Ground into dust?

What do you call it then?

Tell me, I must know.


Tasting something that is no longer there

Remnants of emotional instability

The sunset doesn’t seem so beautiful anymore

How did it become so dull?

Attempts to master the art of stoicism – proven futile

It has to come out, the pain has to come out


Why don’t you ever write me back?

All you’ve done is stuck the proverbial knife in my chest

And killed me

And dug up my body

Only to stab me again


A very short lived  chapter is coming to an end

Thank you for all the things you’ve taught

Especially how not to let someone treat me

My hurt won’t stop me from loving another

My ‘too much’ and ‘not enough’

Will be just right for the [right] one


I am his, but he is not mine

What a heavy weight to carry

Writing pretentious poetry to ease the pain of knowing

It was never meant to be

Let us enjoy this while it lasts

“You mean a lot to me” (What does that even mean?)