A Poet Well Spent

I am here to tell you I know not what to tell you.
I have no words for the things that I feel,
no sentences to explain such love or fear.
I love deeper that what I can describe,
and if I could, well, I have not the energy to do so.
I am a poet well spent, I'm afraid.
I cannot express a love of this level,
nor can I display the pain that I have felt along with it.
I cannot reveal the strength of my fear it'll happen again.
There is nothing left of it, nothing left of me.
I am simply a poet well spent.