i have experienced writer’s block before,
but not like this...
not when i’ve forgotten the meaning of every word that comes to mind,
every word except one: you

you are by far the worst thing that has happened to my poetry
because, before, i could write about my sadness,
about how the world was closing in on me,
but you stood in the way of that
almost as if you were saying 'no, darling, let me show you something new.'
so you showed me the world in a new light,
and suddenly it felt so big i did not know how to deal with it;
could not find the words to describe what i was feeling,
could not find the words.

in the weeks that we have been together,
my sadness became dormant.
sometimes,
sometimes it still erupts out of me;
the hot lava of my tears washing away any hope i had had left.
but even in those moments
you have been there,
there for the repercussion,
for the mending,
there for me.

Now all i can write about is you, you are the only thing that makes sense in my lines,
like, you belong there, you were made to be my inspiration.
around you, my verses and phrases dance, tangle themselves in your eyelashes,
curl themselves around your legs
a beautiful revelation of purpose.
until it doesn’t make sense anymore
and then i am stuck again
stuck in the spaces between the words that adore you so
but to them, i am a prisoner, forbidden from venturing out into the world of rhyme schemes and verses

this is what has been happening to me since you’ve left

and let me tell you,
the day you left i was
preparing myself for a novel
filled with wit and conversation
and joy
but now i can hardly find a single line
that doesn’t call out your name

*how could i ever forget about the way you hurt me
if you are all my writing remembers?