I've lost my muse.
   My poetry song.
        My words don't flow.
             My thoughts don't glide.
What's in a muse?
I ask myself.
As I claw and scream and ask for help.
Release it comes.
In poetry.
But how can I write without a muse.

Dusty. Cluttered. Used. Abused. Recycled. Reused. But open.

These are the corners of my mind.

I had you, but I lost you.
I didn't know you, so I lost you.
I got scared, and I lost you.
You're okay, I still lost you..

if i give much to you, would you hold her safe?
if i hand this much to you, would you keep a promise?
that whenever too much happens, you'll caress her face
and tell that you'll never let her little love go to waste.

Sing me a song.

     Of how you love me.

Even if it's a lie.

      I don't care at all.

we get little moments together.
though we have never had a time where it's just me and you,
i always think about the tiny sparks and colossal impact;
and wonder if you write about them too.

Coming and going, like a lucid dream. Ebbing and flowing like a rolling stream. The good and the bad. All rolled into one. The happy and the sad. Give this life it's fun. It's hard I admit but its worth it. I swear. So grab your life by the horns and do what you dare.

-AJ

Would I be loved if my words touched your heart?
And spoke to your soul like a dart board to a dart.
I want to move you. To change you. To surround you. To bind you. To make you know that someone cares. That's my dream.