Tears from a Pen


A poised pen brimming with ink,

as if it were the vessel of human emotion,

the dry paper laid down, the cold face of relationship

waiting to drink in the black tears with no remorse

It leaves no inky depth to be fulfilled,

each letter separate but joined and

only an echoing silence to swallow memories

lost and found.

Each stroke of the pen a quake of the heart to steady sorrow

a black melody leaking into a white abyss where

Time claims the pain to remember, to

savor it,

A masochistic mirror to reflect a ripped heart that

beats, keeps beating, keeps writing

only to gorge, to disgorge a bitter tune colored in

black and white.

The beauty of emotion sighs in its fulfillment

the black tears through a watery lens become nothing

more than whispers of what was of a stitched

rhythm.

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