Every letter
every word
every syllable
was written in the ink
of my memory of you,
you were my masterpiece
shown to the world
as I thought
forever was ours
and ours alone.
But now,
metaphors
and similes
are out of place
words
don't seem
to rhyme at all
every poem lost its mystery
because you aren't mine anymore,
to someone else you belong.
If someday I'll give poetry another chance
I'll try to find the magic in the poems
that I'll write
I'll give my heart
I'll give my soul
Even if you're not the ink
that writes my poetry anymore.
©irleenda
A