If her childlike
  self was to see
her now what
would
         she think
would
       the shock
freeze
her heart to a
still beat make
her turn & run
       back to the
dream, the
encounter
      shattering
her
     at the seams
as if
   they were two
elements that
could
not exist together
separated by age
      & heartache,
         everything
that had
  changed, blood,
        brain, dna
or would they
embrace,
     reconnect,
      vow to start
again

~    
        All the poems I write
     are just the beginning
                              and end
               of every thought
   I've ever had about you.

I guess I should write a poem about you
since you read my poetry
I know your depressed and I don't mind you stalking me
Honeslty
it's kinda cute
you still obessesed with me over all this time
still looking for the truth
To be honest
Nothing I ever said was really true
but I'm starting over now
at least I think I am
I'm figuring out what to do
now that we are finally through
so you don't have to stalk me anymore
you know what I'm up to
you can move on
if you want too

I am not black
Yes my skin represents a culture
And idea
A vision
A notion carried through generations
Being African American
But my attitude
It doesn't show the reality of the situation
I have never seen the movie roots
I don't like potato salad
the n word doesn't slither of my lips
and a lot of the black jokes I just don't get
I'm not black
and I'm sorry to have to admit it

My muse went out to **** my demons
and left me defenseless against the empty
I am hollow almost indefinetly
and I can't mention it
I can't figuratively convey what I am feeling
to get it out
its all stuck inside
until my muse comes back and shows me how
you see I'm useless without her
but she had to go save me
she went to battle my depression
and now I don't feel anything
words lie on my lips
and never really fit into a melody
my muse went off to go **** my demons
but this writers block is killing me

My poetry has lost meaning
I use to capture
Beauty
I use to take words
Words meaningless to others
And create worlds

I was able to combine a few syllables
A few lose adjectives
Ignore all grammar rules
And twist reality
I use to make people feel something

I was able to create feeling
What happened to my poetry?
I guess the better question is
What happened to me