My Words, My Poems, My Pen, My Heart.

Time ticks by, but no words form under my pen.

They do not flow but are forced.

My poems have strayed from rhyme and rhythm. 

My words have lost their grace, their power.

My words once flowed easier than those of a woman in love.

My words once danced gracefully across the page.

My words have lost that grace, that ease.

My poems have waned away to nothing but babble.

My pen hangs mockingly above a blank page.

And my heart breaks.