Blank. By me, 12-11-23

You would think that falling in love is just the inspiration an artist needs but, my mind is so fogged with traces of him that my pen just sits collecting ink the same way that i sit collecting tears over how its so hard for me to express a love that only i hold for the only light making way through this fog is the fact that he will never feel the same, and my god is it such a sad, eerie, blank sight. Just like my poem that because of him, i can not write.