I ain't
a pencil.
You can't sharpen me
and expect me
to stay that way.
I might
break,
I might chip,
and I might never be the same
again.

You are the ink and the pen.
I have ideas and stories, but they're lifeless without you in my hand.

You are the paper and the desk.
I long for adventure and fantasy, and you're the canvas that will carry them.

You are the lamp and the warm mug.
When evening's shroud envelops us, you touch my face and kiss my lips.

Stay in my hand, and we will write a world.

Hurted* myself one day ,
         not for bad ,
but just to write one word
on my skin ,
who goings to heal with me ,
and hurt me ,
with a gentle kiss from my sharpen blade ,
I just writed
that unique word who means a lot
for me , Live **.