My mind is pensive
As my pen sifts
Through the miniscule grains
That cover the surface of my piece of paper
Leaving behind curvy trails of black
But connecting the veins
Of my heart to the emotional and perceptive parts of my brain.
I knew poetry would always reign.
But little did I know that
Little by little over time
Only a little bit of creativity would remain.
Even if I went back after years to vent my pain
I know my writing will appear washed out like a spider in rain.

“Baby, don’t let that little bit of doubt leave your heart stained.
Don’t even let that self-consciousness claim
Your talent, let it shine
Honey the way you move that pen is sublime
And everytime
You read to me what you put together into a rhyme,
I feel frozen in time.
Heck, if there was a vote for who is the best writer alive
It’d be you
Because let me tell you
What you feel when you tattoo
Those lines of blue
sounds something true
to me.”

“But don’t you see?
My hearts in it
To win it
But my mind isn’t mommy
Ever since I lost my poetry
I just can’t find it in myself
To make ends meet.
Woe is me

“I wish I had never stopped
I wish I could go back
To get back into the step
I regret..”

“You Regret?
That doesn’t sound pleasant.
You’ve got a foot in the past
One in the future
And honey you’re crappin’ on the present.
What you need to do dear,
Is take this pen here
And do what it is that you hold near
To your heart. Go make magic.
The talent you possess
Is marvelous.
And many others would wish they had it.
Love, you could change the world.
And you’re still young
So you have plenty of time to start over
From where you had begun.”