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You.
April 26, 2009
My poems seem to be no good anymore.
I hate to say you were my everything,
but you were that inner voice telling me exactly what to write.
You were the emotion in my every word,
the desperation, the desire to write more.
You were the feeling of accomplishment after every finished piece.
The reason my pencil miraculously made it across the paper, leaving words,feelings.
Surrendered.
There.
Forever.
You were the smiles, the warm feeling that embraced me the millions of times I would reread my writing,
and now the tears left on my every page.
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