Pen and Paper

Dear Pen and Paper

You have my words and my sentiments rolled down in vapor...

I’d say: “see you later”

but the moment is now; so don’t be a stranger.

I heard the echo,

I just didn’t feel like dealing with the words.

Dear Pen and Paper,

Have you any idea of what you do?

Do you have the slightest clue?

I write and spray words like bullets,

Yet there you remain.

Nothing needs to cover you, for it seems you are my shield.

Or maybe a punching bag…

I’d say: “see you later”,

but I have you now,

take me where the grass perspires...

take me where there are no boundaries,

so I may stretch my arms wide, and so I may hug the lies.

The words that I scribble, seem to cause fires( I say let them burn)

In Autumn the words felt like they began to fall, every time I stood up to do the emptiest tasks I could hardly cope, I could never do much on my own.

I stood away from you because I felt that I needed to breathe , to lay in bed for another hour so I could finally bloom, but how can anything grow when there is no sun to cover you?

I never let go of the shadows that followed me in the night, I kept running in a constant loop.

I was a star in a show I could hardly continue acting in, I wanted a better role.

Dear Pen and Paper,

I spoke to you at my most dire of times,

I read aloud, or not so much, the perpetual tower of words that continued stacking.

I wanted to let you know that I’m not tired of you,

I have you not a mile away,

“I drip with excellence”- Or so I think you say,

I tried the book of ages,

But why should I pray?

I need but two entities in my hands.

This letter has had its cup half full, but I don’t like to exceed the midpoint,

I find it best to stop when a smile has peaked.

I gravitated toward you!

So please listen once more.

Dear Pen and Paper,

I’ve known you well since my hands could dribble you across the theatrical court.

I sat down as a child curious of what you had intended,

now I see.

It was

therapy.