Be it the pain I feel when I realize I have lost you,
Or the sorrow I feel at the lost memories.
It might be the anger I feel at the situation I am trapped in?
The love we used to share, that is gone, gave me plenty to write about.
The nights that we will never share, those did too.
The time I spend here, in the home I wish I shared with you,
All of these things gave me plenty to write about,
To Long over, to dwell on the loss.
Now, I still have these things in my life
Yet, my Muse is gone.
The pain is here, the art is lost.
What to do?
© Misty Bishop-Martiss
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
Be it the pain I feel when I realize I have lost you,
Or the sorrow I feel at the lost memories.
It might be the anger I feel at the situation I am trapped in?
The love we used to share, that is gone, gave me plenty to write about.
The nights that we will never share, those did too.
The time I spend here, in the home I wish I shared with you,
All of these things gave me plenty to write about,
To Long over, to dwell on the loss.
Now, I still have these things in my life
Yet, my Muse is gone.
The pain is here, the art is lost.
What to do?
© Misty Bishop-Martiss
I want to write, but I just don't have anything that wants to come out. Does that mean that I am satisfied with my life? Hardly...