to write a poem sweet

 
 
she said  
write me a poem sweet  
and i obliged  
nomind  
 
all was going well  
till the nib  
touched the paper  
 
then  
the pen  
refused to move  
 
the sweet nothings  
emanating from the brain  
just wouldn't  
go past the heart  
which had become  
a giant sink hole  
 
what happened?  
she asked  
why aren't you writing yet?  
 
i had no answers  
for i really had none  
as the mind itself  
was clueless  
 
and i stayed  
stunned  
 
she called me an asshole  
and left  
 
clueless again  
was i  
for i did not know  
what had happened  
and  
what was more  
shocking-  
her leaving  
and like that  
or  
the pen shooting blank  
 
the quest  
to find the answer(s)  
started off strong  
and faded  
with time  
yet never ended  
 
till one day  
shuffling through drawers  
came across  
my first love letter  
though never sent  
for reasons obvious  
and  
redundant at the same time  
 
the little part of the heart  
she- my first and true love  
had captured then  
had always  
kept the grip  
firm  
on the pen  
 
that part never surrendered  
to the power  
of lust  
though the letter  
got buried deeper  
each day  
by dust