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Poem

She said, "Your love lives on pages"
Not in real-time, not in life stages
Every kiss was a line you rehearsed
Needed your heart, not merely a verse

I gave her metaphors for fire
She just wanted warmth, not a choir
Now it's silence where she once stood
I’d take it back if I could

I held the pen, not her hand
Chose the words, let go of the chance
Built her dreams in second drafts
But never gave her what would last
Yeah, she needed more than plans
Of broken songs and paper strands
Guess this kinda love doesn’t land
When you hold the pen, not her hand

She said, “You’re more in love with the rhyme”
Than with me, or a really fun time
And maybe she was right all along
Every ‘I love you’ just felt like a song

She was real—but I chased fiction
Felt love, but missed the conviction
Now she’s just my pen’s closing scene
In this tragedy my poetry dreamed

Yeah.. I held the pen, not her hand
Could not escape in shifting sand
I gave her poems, but never the man
And now she’s gone, I understand
Yeah, she needed more than my brand
Of hollow rhymes and poetic fans
Guess paper love ain’t gonna stand
When you hold the pen, not her hand

No rewrite can bring her back
No chorus can fill this lack
Every verse just fades to black
She was needy, I was slack

I held the pen, not her hand
And now I write what I can't stand
These broken words never my plan
But they’re the truth—I wasn’t the man
She needed more, she took command
There’s no time I’m all out of sand
Finally, I understand...
I held the pen... not her hand

I held the pen...
Not her hand...

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