Today I grieve the loss of an old friend. She knew how to spin pretty words from Raw emotions and weave them into worlds.
Today I grieve the loss of myself. In the process of growing I’ve discovered that A life without poetry is a life truly miserable. I have not been able to lift up a pen And write to my heart’s content. I have lost the magic since I met A man who crushed me with his mere existence. A power once lost cannot return so soon. It is my biggest fear yet — I do not know when I will be able to write again.
A heartbreak can do a number on you but I didn’t expect it to steal my words as well. Every time I pick up a pen to write something I feel genuinely ashamed that I’ve lost the ability to tell a story. I hope one day I find it again.