take my pen.
write your own conclusion.

~

take my pen.
scribble your own miseries.

~

take my pen.
jot your own formalities.

~

take my pen.
scrawl your own elegy.

~

take my pen.
compose your own poetry.

~

take my pen
scribing is no use for me.

Your voice changed my mood like a chameleon. Flooding my mind in deep nostalgia, I am surrounded by reminders of what pleasures we partook, we indulged, we unapologetically did, we confidently said and we therapeutically wanted. We ravaged, we begged, we, were, human.

Your scent still leaves a trace that even a bloodhound could find. Roses vanilla and a hint of cinnamon; my tongue tingles from the pleasure of closing my eyes, reanimating the masterpiece that went down at your unguarded borders.

But, I kept it cool when you introduced your new boyfriend.

'Hello this is__'

I replied 'What's up, the names Kitarō'

But as I spoke, I could tell we were harmoniously in sync when he called out your name twice; no response escaped your lips.

The third time triggered your body to respond; when your crimson lips were finally free from it's white prison it was photographically known of what was unsaid on your beautiful luscious red painted canvas

I knew you wanted me.

Hello Jim, what woes and sorrows will you drown today.

I cheer to your listening ear, for my problems are many and my words are slurred and winded, but my ol' good friend you are long-suffering .

Nevertheless, I know my secrets will be washed away in your alcoholic oceans of the forgotten thoughts and washed up dreams left by many, and all will be well when I succumb to a foolish stupor and stumble where I trek.

Cheers to you Jim; allowing me to see my reflection when I deplete you.

A constant memento of what a good comrade you have been through and through.