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.