She'll Never Read His Words Again

He wove a tapestry with his pen,
his stories came alive back then.
But now she'll never read his tales,
her heart is broken, scars prevail.

The world he'd paint so vividly,
no longer holds appeal, you see?
The colors dull, the canvas gray,
her trust in him has gone astray.

The characters he'd bring to life,
no longer bring her joy, just strife.
Their deeds and thoughts and voices lost,
her hurt too much, too great a cost.

The words he wrote, so smooth and sweet,
now bitter bile, she cannot eat.
The magic gone, the spell is broken,
no words of love or truth unspoken.

His pen, once mighty, now is still,
the pages blank, the ink no thrill.
The art he made, now cast aside,
a love that died, a love denied.