fermented poem

so here it is, the poem that I have been fermenting like fine wine for nearly two months now.
o.k.-- maybe fine wine is giving it too much credit,
maybe I should just write it and do the edits because the paper is hungry
I haven’t fed it since you left, and that’s what it’s about, this poem if it ever finds its beginning,
let’s pretend the lights are dimming and the mic is in my hand
what can I say?
whatever it is, I haven’t said it before because I’ve built barriers with invisible metaphors,
introspective to the point that my view came out defective, deflecting me from the light spectrum into the dark
you were my spark
and still are.