At the End (The Poet’s Muse Rehearses for Their Final Parting)

Do not remember me as the poet would
Seeking heroic valediction.
Do not spin beautiful words from precious memories
Nor lace them with romance
To fashion new inspiration.

But ache for me like a lover lost,
Recalling our moments of exquisite bliss.
Feel the fierce stab of unrelenting need and broken dreams
And let your heart be torn by grief
For love and longing denied.

If then, only then, you find poetry in your loss
May it pour from you with a terrible force
And bleed from your pen to flood the page
Until you are dry of all emotion.