My tears smeared the ink in my journal. All the poems I wrote for you all one ******* mess.....
I tried to make it better but all I did was make it worse.

Maybe that was a metaphor of our love.
I tried so badly to glue our broken pieces

As soon as you left I couldn't  write a thing. My pen ran out of ink and my hand froze with aspiration you would come back.
I have so many Ideas but it's to much to write down.
A part of me doesn't even want to write down your name because you don't deserve my thoughts.
You don't deserve me staying up till 3 am wondering what you're thinking of me.
Do you miss me?
Or was this your plan.