I have forgotten how this works
How people can form sentences
Of beauty, of magic
I'm not sure how to transform my words
And fill a blank paper with words
That gets heavy

The blank paper is much more beautiful
In some way I guess...
But the filled paper is worth much more
The filled paper is full of truth
Of honesty
Of guilt
Of pain
Of passion
Of heartache
Of bubbly feelings
Of sad mornings
Of terrible nights

All I can think about is you
I think I haven't written anything
Or to correct myself
I think that I haven't been able to write
Because I'm scared that it will turn out
To be another stupid poem about
Love

I don't need more of those
I'm fine
Thank you