Where is the anger that lights me up
The pain the inspires me
The ache that keeps me awake
The tears turned to ink that I may pour out more poetry
My eyes a dry like a stream that ceases to flow
He kisses me gently
He holds my hand while we walk
And he makes sweet love to me
And now, I am happy
But my words are lacking due to the drought of pain
Where is the hurt that makes me make art
I have lost it all to love
The irony of joy
©Nina Fabunmi
ninartz 