I held my pen and drowned in thoughts.
Should I write? Or should I not?
I beheld my pen, and I thought deep.
Should I write? Or should I sleep?

And I lay on my bed, with no motivation;
I was lost, so was my inspiration.
And in my dream, confused, I see:
An ethereal lady chanting to me.

Sing your story, and let us hear.
How can I? With all this fear.
Write your love and sing what you feel.
I can't write, unless my words are real.

And I recognized her as she came closer.
The passion I had and thought I lost forever.
And she held my hand and whispered short:
Write for my love, and sing it for my soul.

So I woke up and wrote all night,
And I saw my words dancing with delight.
I wrote and finished that story I adore;
And I lifted my pen, but it asked for more.

You held her hand,
I held my pen.

You kissed her lips,
I kissed your photograph.

You loved her once,
I loved you forever.

You took my pen away so I couldn't write on the walls
So I wrote on the walls of my mind

You have
an ocean
   in your inkwell,
      and who knows
         what new discoveries
  will flow
      from
         your pen

Nothing dries faster,
then black ink filled
with regretful words

a pen
in my hand
touched the paper
and spilled out my emotions haphazardly

then i put the paper
in a glass bottle
sealed it with a cork
and pitched it into the deep ocean