I began to tire of all these poems about you.
Catharsis by way of rhyme, or pentameter, or haiku.
All the hidden words, all the hidden meanings,
Solely about you–how it was, how I was feeling.
And so I set to banish you from the ink of this pen,
Set to relegate you to the past, how things were then.
But a little problem manifested itself immediately at the start,
It seemed I neglected to banish you from my heart.
But what is so wrong with you being poetic fodder?
I need subjects, ideas, words–are you really such a bother?
A new plan began to form, a seed growing in my head.
Rather than banish you, I will wake you up instead.
You will be my muse, my creativity, my never-will-part
Until we deal with these remnants of you still clinging to my heart.
And so rather than say goodbye, I will say hello again.
And put you to work, by way of this pen.