4/30 – National Poetry Month

My muse, my Mona Lisa, my source of inspiration
I don’t know how you mange to provide me with so much material
Only to take my sense of self away from me

Today, I haven’t felt inspired
Not even once
Not even as a rode by a beautiful lake
Not even as the breeze blew petals that had fallen off the trees into the air
Not even as the petals swirled around and broke their falls on the lake’s soft ripples
No inspiration, none
You’ve finally managed to suck me out of me
You’ve finally managed to leave me completely empty
You’ve finally managed to make me stop wanting and needing and desiring you
You have left me dry

My well has run dry
Our well has run dry
It’s all dry like a…like a…
Aw hell, I don’t even have anything to compare it to
My art, my words, my gift is gone
My words have failed me
My feelings have failed me
My intution failed me
You failed me

And I can’t even write about you anymore because there is truly nothing left to say.

Thoughts?

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