I am mourning the loss
of my writing as
though each poem
was an actual person.
I haven't stopped crying
all day.
I'm lost and empty.
The last year
of my life,
just gone.
And some were real jewels.
I really felt proud
when I saw the
lightening turn yellow.
It gave me hope that
I was good enough to
actually fulfill my
dream one day.
I told him about
it and he said,
I don't think that's dumb
at all
It felt good to know
that some one understood,
that my heart hurts.