you were my muse,
the creative influence
in my poetries;
the inspiration
to my many
tales of heartbreaks,
a performer,
you sang the
songs of sorrow
that played in
my heart;
yet I found myself
singing along
your presence
is a unique form
of abstract art,
and I was the curator
that knew
your real value
I am no longer
a starving artist,
but even I had once
dreamed a dream
we'll be making
art together again
someday
your affection has been inspiring me recently, but I can feel you're slowly ghosting me– and it hurts.