Baby, you were my muse.
Now with you gone;
the only key I can find is [back]space.
Pretty prose used to flow so easily
from these bandaged fingers. The keyboard
wasn't an enemy, simply an extension of the hand.
Now without the little green lines
you drew to guide me, I feel like little red
riding hood. Lost in a wood of words that have no meaning.
Philophobic.
Nyctohylophobic.
Even this is shit.
Another poem to throw down the rabbit hole.
Author notes
I can't write anything good of late.
because of him..grr.
Any who doll, I hope this is okay 
A contest entry
- For my favorites and those that have me on their favorites by whiterabbit..
400 points, ended December 11, 2008, 23 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
This is definitely not shit, doll. I really love this and I can relate to this a lot. I like the way that you've described everything here. Great job.
x
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