Barren

Most nights now
I sit and stare
waiting for the words to come
to prance and play
to weep and wail their way from a dormant pen

and lighten the load of my mind once more
as they've done so many times before
When the golden swirling words
caught my minds eye like falling autumn leaves

with images of combustive hearts
searing their soot into the watching world
and silver tongues dripping their molten charms
to stopper ears from mere mortal words

what woes were they
that soaked through the pages
and let them bleed how I could not

oh father, doused in tears
let them flow how my words will not
make them burn and spit
the way they did when the fires still soared
before the numbness of nothing doused them