I can’t believe it, how could she?

Bruises, cuts, all over me.

No apology, no sorry.

I try to forget, really try.

I try hard not to, but I cry.

I try to make my words flow now,

But my poetry is dead, left me.

I wept for my words, not my hurt,

I used to write my problems down,

Flowing, syllables, symmetry, simple,

Now my words are stuck, gone, missing.

I write things down, they rhyme for sure,

None of them flow. No symmetry.

It’s not simple any more for me.

It’s broken, I’m broken. I’m alone.

No words as companions for me.

I’m broken down and I’m alone