It has begun to rain
And indeed I do feel sad
But I have lost motivation to write.
Whenever I have fallen out of love
I find it harder to pick up the pen
And write about feelings.
I am like a cracked glass
In the process of recovering.
I have no desire to
For fear of being dropped.
And yet these days I still dream of you,
Like the sadist deep within cannot resist
The pain that comes the morning after
Waking up and realizing that I
Will never truly have you.
Maybe I feel
Too much to express.
The ink has dried
And the tears are no longer
And yet, the fact that I cannot delineate my feelings
Is proof enough that I am