The Pen Is Now Within
Love me dear, so slowly
Throughout this life and death
My muse and inspirations
You are the best parts
Of me and my words.
I couldn't sew a stitch
Write a single phrase
Without it being gone through you
For my pen is now within.
My mind hides my morphemes
Unable to express
What they really feel
How they are undressed.
They come flowing
With the minute thought of you
Writing soullessly barren
Unless you caress my heart.
My only escape
From a dark lonely word
My writings the half hearted
Plunges of despair.
Giving me my strength
I must go on
Fueled my absence from you
Loss bringing to surface.
The best I have to offer this world
To be desired by you
Forthcoming they do
The vernacular of hope.
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