A poem to creativity

I have been going through
application of appointments
to keep on looking
forward to have a meet with
you.

The sun
has been in my eyes for quite
some time but I don't mind knowing you'll be layering.
Clever rhymes and lines haven't been around,
and the pound of tantrum
detergent me from
what I want to say: apologetic
empty stares we share.

My beings are taken, mistaken, stolen
from me. I can't remember
what is what used to be.
I thought I saw your naked form: your curves, heat, emotions -
Couldn't have got it right though, seems
that I've forgotten my
thinking cap.

Don't worry honey, I'll return shortly.
Don't take it so personal that
the time has gotten to you; wished winter was here.
I know we'll meet again someday. Until then,
with the memory of your soft touch that you've shown me
I'll look for you by the death balloon.