My mind feeds the Pen words
as quickly as the paper can swallow;
Feasting on emotions and notions
hand-fed from my heart

Now and again my mind overindulges
on expressions and craves a pause;
Knowing any respite is short-lived,
the pen stays ever on the ready.

Fully aware that the writing never ends.

last night I dreamt
on fettered branches
the green edge of your knife
splitting us in two

and your wicked tongue
poked out to taste the salt

how many times
will I scribble these lines
praying for ink to fill the absence?

being stuck, they say, is uncomfortable.
i believe it’s not necessarily true. for instance,

...i like getting stuck inside my room and read for a day or two or three or four, forever.
...i like getting that last song stuck in my head for a day or two or three or four, forever.
...i like getting stuck in traffic with my pen and paper.
...i like getting stuck in the moment...perhaps, with you.

getting stuck is an opportunity, staying stuck is unhealthy

staying stuck on a single story out of convenience regardless of its completeness is poison mistaken for remedy

-- bilet-doux

an autumn evening
warmth as the sunlight filters through my window
perfectly white daisies make a flowery scent
a burning candle, the smell of flames
on paper i write to you

"my love
i am surrounded by scents but none of them smell quite like you
i am surrounded by warmth but it is nothing like the warmth of your body on mine
no matter the situation, you are always the first thing that comes to mind
i miss you"
busily, the pen scratches, coming to a halt

i think

how do i tell my love that the longing heartache that i feel in his absence is nothing / compared to the heartache i feel when he comes / only to leave
how do i tell my love i do not want him to come back unless it is forever
how do i tell my love that he causes me so much pain ;
giving me only a glimpse / when i deserve a lifetime

i think

the pen doesn't touch the paper
i fold and seal the letter
how do i tell my love

bilet-doux --

Why does red always have to be the neglected pen color
It’s such a bright vibrant color but no one wants to use it
People need to know that red is powerful
But also passionate and beautiful
You need not fear the red pen
Instead of seeing danger we need to see love
Because isn’t love what we all look for
And seeing red will now only mean love
We can save the red pen

Pen to paper.
This pen keeps writing the image of you.
Metaphors bleed into the shape of you.
These similes framing your likeness like a photographer his finest pictures.
You are personified as nature but it is nature that draws inspiration from you.
For whatever reason, this pen always wants to write about you.