Lately I have lacked a great deal of inspiration to write...
Why is it? Why can't words flow in my head? Is this even right ?

It is said that a person picks up a pen when they're falling in love or their heart has shattered...

How do I rebuild this castle?

After all, the king cut off my hands. .

If you want to text first, do it.
Want to double text? Go for it.
If you like someone, tell them.
If someone makes you happy, say it.
If someone made you upset, talk to them and tell them why.

We spend so much of our lives playing games and trying to figure out our next move. We are afraid of being vulnerable, afraid of looking weak. ***** that. Do what you want to do and the right ones with move along with you. Life is too short to play by some made up rules.

and he stared at me like i was a painting

Many have come to pry me open.
Many have come asking for the key.
Offering promises that the doubt would lessen,
flaunting their oaths as currency.

Plenty have assured that they're not like the others.
They promised that their words were forged in steel.
They had come with nothing else except to offer,
their ears and support just so to seal the deal.

"Forgive me", I'd say... I am still a tad apprehensive.
But I do feel the need to speak...
I do long for ears attentive,
Not the ones which are attached to mouths that easily leak.

I know that there are such ears...
Hard to find but they're definitely there.
They'd be ready to catch my tears,
more than willing to show concern and care...

Yours seem rather reliable... That much I see.
They've come with intentions seemingly untainted and kind.
Don't suppose they'd take my words ever so lightly.
They won't lap up my secrets with treachery in mind.

Again I find myself here at the same spot.
About to hand over the duplicate key.
This familiar leap I hope you'd have me caught.
Please don't give away my secrets for free...