The lack of excitement in the creativity department in my brain

Makes the nights more lonely

Darkness more boring

And your smile exhausting

I am unable to translate my thoughts and feelings

Into a means of expression

Birds no longer sing to me 

But the reflection of our flowers

My feet no longer stomp a beat into the earth

And the cold moves in like a tidal wave

My roots ache for sufficient nutrients to bring me back to life

So knock on my tombstone before entering