I remember when we met;
Words bubbled up inside me,
Floated on paper into poetry.

Then you left, packed your bags
And brought my words with you.
Since then, I'm like a channel on mute.
I couldn't write how shattered I felt.

So now I'm like a broken record;
Singing songs of the good old days of glory
But couldn't speak of the present
Or how my life would be in the future.

-m.b