I don’t write anymore
These days I spend my days forgetting
Letting the pretty little words flitter
Through my mind passing away
Like butterflies in the cold
This mind has become a grave
Where I bury the little joys I once had
Where I let the poems fade into nothingness
Forgetting that once upon a time
They too would have felt
The joy of being written
I don’t write anymore
No more diary to keep
No more pretty words
Scribbled in the corners of notebooks
These days I spend my days forgetting
And now I have forgotten the joy of you.
Poesy 