Inadequate

You, are so godsdamned frustrating

Every poem I try to write

Whether it be about you

Or how I feel

Absolutely, unfailingly, sucks

 

Every spark of inspiration

Stays just that, a spark

Like a feeble chick

Unable to leave the nest

Its wings too inadequate

To get off the ground

Much less to fly

 

That's what my poems are

Inadequate

You're too special, too rare

Too beautiful, too breathtaking

To be placed in a box

Made by my lacking words

 

Poetry has always been my way

Of communicating who I am

What I feel; my thoughts

Which doesn't work with you

It's all pent up inside

With no means of escape

So, frankly, I'm at a loss

I have no idea what to do

 

There's so much I want to say

But you've stolen my heart, and pen

Silencing me as effectively

As slicing out my tongue