Writer's block is the inability to think
Anxiety is the inability to stop thinking
About how with him the only similes you could make was spread across your face
And the end of every chapter was sweet
With him, you couldn't write
Because he took every onomatopoeia away
And gave you the personification to not feel so dead
The alteration was wasting weekends with reflection of when we were widows of ourselves
I am quite fawn'd of the new creative path you've taken, my deer
But now I am a God of every person I have created
He will be the allegory in every story
But I determine the connotation of my own life
Even though I feel like I keep writing eulogies
The way he made you love yourself portrays the same synesthesia I feel when I create lives
YOU ARE READING
Ineffable
PoetryA book of poetry by an amateur who is trying to get back into writing novels like I used to. This story will never be completed because this holds the words I needed to get out and will always be my poetic diary. Ignore my annotations, I want this t...
