I find it funny that I can't write a poem about you
I've been trying all day and it's just not working
Don't be offended, it's nothing you've done
You've done quite a lot that I'd like to write about, actually
But you see, every time I start writing about broken relationships or other painful things,
Invariably I end up writing about him.

You see, the pain from that relationship still hurts the most, cuts the deepest, lingers the longest
And the harm you did just doesn't meet the mark
So I suppose you should take it as a compliment that I can't seem to write about you
I can honestly say I've had worse
Because for some reason, all poems come back to him, all pains remind me of his pain, and all my reflective thoughts are consumed by him.