OUT OF WORDS

Do poets ever run out of words?
Of sounding the same syllables
for love for hope for whatever happened
to that promise we made to stay
and why didn't we and how come
fear takes over at the worst damn
times in our life and when will the rent
get paid this month and is anyone
out there reading my shit anyway?

I don't turn a good metaphor anymore 
I don't have a day
like dog's napping in sunlight
warmed by the rays of love
and waiting on an owner
to pour the food in the plastic black bowl
next to the metal bowl where the water
started cold and now is lukewarm
like your love for me
(you said 'cold,' but I can always hope)
but then, maybe you would just
say that's like the lie you told me
because you were scared
and who cares that you're afraid
anyway? fear ain't never done
nothing for me but kill the 
relationships I wanted the most

It's not even 10 days into April
National Poetry Month
and I already done run out of words
and certainly got no rhyme or
rhythm to make sense of all
that needs to happen in the next
5 days, and you won't me to
write a poem, too? 
This ain't no poem, but 
it's the best I can do since
I've run out of words
and hope to boot

© Valerie Bridgeman
March 8, 2013