I stopped writing you poems
and you don't even notice.
words needing destination
thoughts burning into choruses of sentiment
gazed upon by deaf eyes
eyes distracted
looking beyond my phrase
into self reflecting mirrors
in other worlds.
not wanting to be tax by my words,
not needing to feel the weight,
or to be burdened by the thoughts.
eyes looking elsewhere do not see the words that lay cold and
fallow at your table,
waiting to be scraped into the garbage.
inspiration, thoughts, my expression,
old forgotten toys hiding beneath wet leaves behind the shed,
fading in the weather,
fading muse,
I stopped writing you poems.
