My Words

For a while,
you were my inspiration and my muse.
And all my words, and every verse 
that would come out of me was you.
While everybody else would whisper
how this could never work.
Then I pretended not to hear cause I knew you were worth it.

I said it didn't matter 
when you failed to hold my hands.
Instead, I turned the blind eye.
Only I could understand 
the person that you were, 
because with me, you opened up,
and it was us against the world, 
and certain nights, were were inlove...and I can tell.

Except I couldn't recognize the other person that you held.

I figured out, too late, it was your past that wouldn't leave.
So when I asked, you smiled at me
and said, "my love, I wouldn't cheat"
...but then you left.

In his arms you ran again,
as I heard my own heart shatter.
(I called you a white rose that left a scar upon my hand.)
What does it matter?

You called me back to say,
"what a lovely poem you wrote,
I love that you can write,
I wish you'd publish all your works".

but what you failed to see was all the pain behind the words.

So here are the lines 
you'll never see or ever get to read:
the lyrics of a broken man, 
the spirit of a broken song.
My lips you'll never get to kiss.
Our story that went on too long.
My hands you'll never feel again.
My touch, my voice 
will haunt your dreams.
For I will never let you know just what the hell you meant to me.

Cause all I did was lift you when the world would break you down.
and all you did was break me, and then left without a sound.

I know you will look back
and realize all that you had.
How our love could affect you in such a short amount of time.
and yes, you were my inspiration for about a thousand lines.

But if the day comes where you'd ask
if I can love you one last time,
if I can write you one more verse.
I'd look you in the eye, and say the one thing that I've learned:

You were right. 
I can write...
...but you're not worth my words.

Reviews

[Rachael Lea]

WOW, there is such feeling behind this. I can feel my heart shatter. The imagery that is painted is so sad but beautiful. I know what it is to find inspiration from another who means so much to you, to have your heart broke by them and then to look back at your work to see how blinded you were, to feel what you felt when you lost them the anger the hurt the betrayal, the longing the old lust the love lost and everything. Sometime I feel sick when I look at those words I had written of someone who meant so much to me. Sometimes even though they aren't worth your words you find yourself writing of them, because they are your muse, they do open your eyes to more than can be imagined. We are poets and we write with our heart, I am sorry she didn't see the meanings of your words, you are very talented and should publish your work some day when you have a collected idea on how you want it to be presented. Job well done.

[J.A]

Wow thank you so much. Your words mean a lot to me. I was hesitant to post any of my poetry that dealt with my past, but I felt some could relate. I hear from my friends and family about my writing, but I never post anything for people outside my circle to read. It sucks cause most people on social media won't read anything anymore, just watch videos and memes. It means so much that to hear that other people think I should publish one day. Your comment made my day!

[Rachael Lea]

I am glad I was able to make your day :) I do know the worry that crosses a persons mind when they go to share something with someone else, though I do not feel that very often. I have always found joy in sharing my work with anybody who will read it. I often share on Facebook and have created my own poetry page on Facebook as well, though the later is new and doesn't have many people following. Thank you for sharing your work, I hope you continue to do so.