Write With Me

Face down I lay On a cold, hard surface Exposed for all to see Only to be used at your discretion Inside I’m slowly dying Longing for your touch Longing for our usual meetings Pull me upright So we can tango once more Or ménage à trois with our companion That thin, slender, white lady Replaced by your new fling From the new age My kind slowly becoming obsolete Write with me once more The last request of…… A pen neglected