when I write?
I grab the pen
to pour out my feelings
let loose the rhythm
that beats against my chest
Yet as I look down
on the notebook in front of me
my heart starts to dance in panic
Or in relief?
Every time a day
a week
a month
goes by without opening
the notebook of words
I am sure I have lost myself
I have come to the end of the road
that served me so well for years
I am dry
no ink spilling on the pages anymore
But then my heart starts to beat again
aches so much
that the only things that make it better
are the pen I have lost and
the notebook of whispered thoughts
[03/18]
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