She stole my poetry

I stare at my coffee,  black,  no sugar,  no cream
She stole my poetry
Some say stay different when you write
Take away your emotions
Just write poems with no personal reason but with rhyme
Maybe in that,  there is some sense,  some reason,  some rhyme
But how can I
I shouldn’t have invited her for a drink
Nor replied her hi on whatsapp
I saw her selfie
And got entangled in her web
She became my muse
Until the day she left
Walked out on a hot windy afternoon
She took twenty of my poems
And all of my paintings
Why didn’t she take my money and leave
Or the golden wristwatch always beside my alarm clock
I can make more money
There will always be money,  women and lies
But only few poetry
She took my poetry
And now I just blog and stare at this empty coffee cup
Please where can I find her?