about people and things and places.
I never struggled with conveying my thoughts
through words and
I would sit down to a pen and paper
and write and
black ink escaped my pen
as quickly as thoughts
ran through my head.
But when I met you,
I stopped writing.
I could not find the words
to say how I felt
and for a while I told myself
it was because I was too happy
and you were too special
to be limited to just words.
But then
I realized something as I picked up
my pen for the first time in months--
you took the poetry out of me,
because you had no poetry in you.
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