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
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