My

Everything I used to write
Was either for you,
Or, later,
About you.

I cut you out of
My life.

Right after I forsook
My faith.
They were once,
One,
And the same.

I willing chose to
Logic away
That which once
Moved
My pen.
And now in the lapse
Of
My meaning
I find
Myself
Without anything to write about.
Bereft – without a muse –
To inspire a next step.

I’ve lost all the words
Since I stopped saying the ones
I took for granted.
I thought I had to turn
My back
On what I once bowed to.
My heart
Was trampled on by
My knees
As I knelt before
Uncaring and unkind others.

What good was a thousand
Unsent letters
If I couldn’t stand
To deliver them and their messages?
What ill was falling to
My worst
When at least that brought me clarity,
Made me create –
My one gift –
And I gave it away
In a failed attempt
To be reasonable
To be healthy
To be logical
To be sane
To be smart
To be good
To be

I’ve lost all the words
Since I stopped saying the ones
I took for granted.

Jessie