First and foremost
let us talk about the ink,
I haven't seen you for 3 days
and all it does is spill
in aimless sketches of your hands.

Does the rain come anymore?
I haven't touched my favourite book in months,
I can't tell you how the pages feel,
I'm a sorry excuse for a writer,
I get so confused on my way to a story,
So here is a full stop.

-

I get ghosts touching my neck when I think of you,
"Sh Sh Shh,"
a pillowcase to smother me to bed.