Blank For Poetry

Blank for poetry For the first time, I’m blank No poetic rhythm or vocabulary connoisseurship Just plainly and utterly blank I’m searching and scouring Not finding the right words Or any words at all I’m just...blank Maybe that’s what this does to you This way of being deliberately broken With such a piercing pain it echoes through the shards of sobs As I watch the shreds of ashes Of all I’d based my short-lived life on Stain the same palm of hands That worked so hard to appease Touching the ever so intricate part of me Shattered Weeping for the part that held Every single thread of my dedication Woven into the most validating piece of clothing Warm and secure it embraced Like a heated coat in the cruel winter And I sat there, blank Lips sealed with grief For a self that made the psyche rest And now I stand worthless and wordless Blank.