How Writers Fall


by s.a.s.m

I used to love playing with words,
now I don’t even remember how to start a sentence.
Maybe losing you means—
running out of words.

Maybe I loved you—
more than prose & poetry.
I loved you more than the rhymes in me,
more than the ink that stained my hands & fingers,
or maybe more than my morning coffee.

You were the reason why I write,
now the reason why I shouldn’t.
For why should I continue—
if every word I have, falls under you—
& just simply all about you?

Now everything is clear…
You are not worthy—
of every word & poetry.

You do not deserve this poetry;

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