The Story Ends
I stare at the paper, pen in hand
Nothing fills the lines but angry tears
Where are the words that overflowed;
where are the works that wrote themselves
What happened to the sleepless nights
a poem would scream to be heard
Refuse to let me rest until it was freed;
released from the confines of my mind
I squeeze my pen harder; willing something onto
the page. The empty paper that mocks me so often
Anything ...I search for anything that resembles a word;
one that unlocks the vat hiding emotions that spoke for me
But I search in darkness; neither seeing nor hearing
Pain grabs my attention and I focus back on my hand
I set down my pen and switch off the lamp
There is no longer room on the paper to write
Reaching for the door I look back at the desk lit only by the moon
...at the one beam of light shining on the red stained paper
Tears falling, shoulders back, I turn and close the door behind me
02/22/2018
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