There is magic in her words,
That puts you in a trance.
Her poetry is music,
That begs your soul to dance.

She paints a kind of beauty,
That also crushes the heart.
Like millions of stars falling,
Before it tears the world apart.

Her fears, joys, and sorrows,
Her hushed whispers in the dark,
Leave you utterly breathless
As they singe and leave a mark.

I asked how she did it,
And I ended up regretting.
For there are some truths,
That are not worth knowing.

Writing kept her sane,
When her world was in vain.
Her wounds bled poetry,
Her Muse was her pain.

I could only imagine,
How lost and alone she felt,
While she wrote verses,
That made icy hearts melt.

It aches me to pray each day
That her heart soon be whole,
Even if it means killing,
All of her poetry’s soul.