How dare I,
Write about love in a poem.
Unknowing.
Shortie poet alone,
Only spouse she had recent,
Was her pen, pad,
&& poem.

Relating to accusationg && arguements
From past.
Resentful, & mad.
Shortie poet angry,
At what she had.

Give up all,
She ever loved.
Just to supress the ache.
Ink running out so she writes with her blood,
Using her broken pieces as the page.

It ain't fair.
God, && Cupid in cahoots
Everyone else got theirs,
&& the boys I've loved
Too selfish to share.

So,...I'm alone.
Feeling empy,
Watching couples pass hand in hand
With envy.
Cuz' it's not me.
Got a feeling like ,
It won't again ever be.

Throw away my notebooks,
Cuz' I'm losing my ability to relate.
My ink runs out,
&& my heart[page] are beginning to break.

"Starving artist", && ravaged heart.
The poet with no blue skies in her future.
Using her last words,
As her suture.

&& still I bleed.
Inevitably always to be.
Empty