As it turns out,
I’m not very good
at writing broken poetry.

Whatever this pain inside
Of me is, it isn’t
ready to come out.

I have writers block
Like the block on my heart.
I swear it hasn’t beat sense you left.

The words won’t flow,
And neither will the blood
My hands are numb as I write

This **** poetry and
The only thing that will fix
It is the warmth of your love.

Come back