I used to write. Now I barely can hold a pen or type on a computer for more than a minute. Not because I've fallen out of love with writing but because I've fallen out of love with you that inspired me to write. My love for you died when you thought of me as a second choice. My heart no longer had such a symphony on repeat when you leave without the gift of closure.

Your presence became my home and our conversations became the sonnet that I would forever be captivated by. Your guidance became the white flag in my unforgiving battle. Our hearts beat as one, for a time. And then you left and my world became cold and bland no longer in color but in grayscale where I fought to survive but ultimately lost to the void of heartache.