PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There was a time
I wrote easily
words flowed endleslly
But I lost my muse
She sealed forever
part of my heart
with her going
and now writing
has become to me
torture
against my culture
pain debilitating
against my being

I long to finish
the stories I opened
but the doors
to those worlds
are now closed
sealed
jammed
tearful

I am frustrated
anger and despair
sadness, helplessness
I cry
I am crying writing that
it is hearthrending
my lot, my fate?
a curse for sure
a negation of what I was
of what I wanted to be
there is no joy in my writings
now, nostalgia, spleen, pain
the muse trance is gone
my love, my muse, gone
the love is still there
and pain
and pain
always
ever after

I do not want
my writings to bring pain
only pain and loss and confusion
but they reflect me
joy, smile, contentment:
just a facade for others
and for me to live
what I feel, I do not want them to suffer
what I hide, I do not want them to know
what I had, I can not tell them now
too late, too far gone
as others wrote:
the moon that was a sun died
my moon that was my sun died
and with her, so much of me
that I do not recognize myself anymore
I wallow in my loss, use it to justify
the betrayal of my actions and my being
I cannot find the strength, the energy nor the will
to fight of that self imposed yoke
and climb out of theat pit of despair

my heart is dry, broken and brittle
every day, the facade, the social mask
eats at me a bit more
I like them want to protect them
the price is destroying me
and I cannot but think it is worth it

when I will crash, what will they feel
those whom I felt close too and yet kept at bay
self isolation
will they even miss me? some of them
I wanted to bond with
less than a handful, but enough
yet I restrained myself
and still do

I shall not have written that
no diary
as a rule
ougth have been a poem of loss
(again)
it constricts me
I can barely write now
so concentrated on my pain and stupidity
on my loss and betrayal
on what she would have wanted
and how she would have felt
knowing me in that state
yet it is not enough to get me out
I want to snap out of it
and reclaim a life
a lived life, a full life
not that shadow shapeless empty and ragged