You Were My Reason for Writing

Text:

© Grathy
You're gone
And so is my reason for writing.

For years,
I retreated with my pen,
My ink savior,
Charting words I could not say.

I suppose I should be sad
That you’re no longer,
But there is relief now,
And so my words are dry.

I don’t scribble happy thoughts.
My pen was born
Dark and moody,
Black sludge bubbling up,
Fully fueled
From the way you treated me.
Years of material
Born from cobalt thoughts.

I love the you
I used to know,
Before something snapped
Like a dry twig,
Quick kindling
To start your roaring fire.

Flames engulfing the neighborhood,
Everyone else was blamed,
But you started it,
Rubbing two sticks together
From imagined wounds.

Ashes everywhere
The smoke so thick
No one could breathe.

And now,
Your celebration of life is near,
Where no one says
What’s really on their mind.

Pretty pictures of you
Will flood the walls,
Memories of happier times,

Before you were cruel,
Before your eyes
Stabbed daggers at us all,
Before the sharp fork of your tongue.

I will try to hold my head high
To celebrate your life,
And pretend you were a lovely person,

Before your heart completely froze,
Collapsed,
Giving you, and all of us,
Peace at last.