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
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?)