Can you bring back my words?

I am a writer
with written words that flow effortlessly,
effortlessly out of my mind
through my pen
and onto my paper,
all effortlessly.
I am a writer,
so spoken words come quite easily to me.
Thoughts arise in my head,
and run eloquently out of my mouth
and into one's ears,
quite easily.
But right now I am no writer.
Written words no longer flow effortlessly
through my pen
and onto my paper,
and spoken words no longer
run eloquently out of my mouth
and into your ears,
for you have stolen that from me.
Just as you stole my heart,
you stole my words.
The words that define me,
the words that used to define us.
I could ask you to bring them back
but I know my words will only catch in my throat,
momentarily choking me,
[they always do]
So I will sit here in my fearful silence
hoping that maybe, one day,
you will bring my words back to me,
so I can redefine my self,
and maybe along with my words,
you will return my heart,
so I can love again.