Losing you, my muse
was like losing my favorite pen
now the words won't flow right
rhythm skips
lines remain empty
I curl up at night
with a blank journal
black Bic poised
scratch out a phrase
remember what it looked like
in blue
the color of the ink
shouldn't matter
the way my fingers curl around
the sleek plastic casing
feels the same
but I know it's not
I pull open the desk drawer
shuffle papers around
hope it will appear
check the jar
on my desk
pencils without points
erasers chewed