Uninspired Poem by Mel Mackie

If one asked me how I felt for you today,
I would simply say, 'uninspired.'
My brushes won't paint for you,
my voice can't sing your praises.
Even this pen moves slowly across this page,
painfully slowly,
so that the poem I intended to write
becomes lost in the 'never-could-have-beens'
and a more sombre prose emerges.
I used to write of cosmic explosions
caused by hearts set ablaze.
Now I struggle to find the words
for even the smallest spark
that is even harder to perceive.
What a tragedy it would be
to find reciprocity in this ambiguous state.