A Poet Ruined

You made my dreams come true,
With your little lines of rhyme.
Now I can’t be blue,
As we work in perfect time.

You are the dearest friend,
I could ever hope to find.
And so to you I rend,
These thoughts here on my mind.

I love you even deeper,
Then the oceans and the sea.
I found myself a keeper,
That with me will always be.

But you’ve ruined me as a poet,
I cannot make a rhyme.
And wouldn’t you just know it,
I have even lost my time.

My poetry has been dark,
About pain and misery.
I’d look around and HARK,
For it’s all that I would see.

I would talk about the pain,
And the death of endless life.
A world full of rain,
And the pain of endless strife.

The darkness running all around,
As it screamed aloud in rage.
Thinking things quite profound,
As I put them on the page.

But now my inspiration,
Has all gone up in smoke.
As with your loves salvation,
On my words I start to choke.

I try to write some simple words,
To bring about the pain.
But then I hear the singing birds,
And hear my heart proclaim.

“I love you more then life,”
And I think that you know it.
You took away my strife,
And ruined me as a poet.