By F.J. Thomas
You broke my heart and stole my muse
The worst thing you could steal
For a poet and a writer
Who writes from how they feel.
I no longer want to write poetry,
Or a song made for two.
No book ideas come to mind
Except maybe murder just for you.
I no longer believe in happy endings,
I couldn’t write one if I tried
That’s because you stole my muse
When you cheated and you lied
My mind’s not full of fairy tales
The way it used to be
That’s because you filled me with darkness
And now that’s all that I can see.
You took away my happy song,
My thoughts of good story lines,
Only to leave behind a morbid plot
That never leaves my mind.
You stole my muse and I want it back
But it’s not something you can give
Unless maybe if you’re six feet under
Then I’ll have a story to live.
Great stories come from real life
And now that my muse is dead.
I’ll have to think of other ways
To write down what’s in my head.