There had been a time my blank paper was a shrine to your memories. A mausoleum I built of metaphors and rhymes. Now that I have forced myself to move on from fables of your love. And learn to love something more consequential, Something less sycophantic, something more assertive, Something more real, something more synergetic. My page is blank once again, begging for your scathing ink. Maybe, I fell in love with the idea of a muse, And now, I want to be bound again... if only to write one more rhyme. I think I was thinking of Stockholm penning this. #yqbaba #rhyme #love
