The blinking cursor
forever fading in and out,
mocking me
for my inability to create.
The words don't come
as they once did.
Blink. Blink.
It's daring me not
to stop typing,
so I don't.
Words flow.
Ideas flow.

Who can tell if any of it
is any good anymore?

finally I can write again
I let the words flow
even though the sentences don't
make sense and the quality is low.
The poems might be
not so perfect,
lovesick & over-dramatic
but I started writing again
and I'm proud.

My hand writes when it is sleepy,
Though my pin prickled pal pays me no tithe,
The static sound feel of my arm,
Removes itself from me,
Granting formerly unprecedented agency,
Between my brain and my limb,
With me left the unhappy spectator

You are the light, I am the night.
You are the telescope, I am the subject.

You are the root, I am the fruit.
You are the branch, I am the leaves.

You are the reader, I am the book.
You are the writer, I am the words.

You are the canvas, I am the brush.
You are the skin, I am the blade.

- priam ; twist

If I would have been in place of Shakespeare,
All my sonnets would have been about you.
My fantasies would fantasize about you.
I would have composed ballads and free verses,
On the letter sheets of my heart,
I would have written with a sparkling quill,
drenched in my emotions.

If I would have been in place of O.Henry,
All my short stories would have been about you,
About how we met and how I fell.
I would have penned novels and dramas,
On the sacred pages of my skin,
I would have written with a sparkling quill,
drenched in my emotions.

But, well, I'm nothing more than an
An ordinary girl who is in love with an ordinary guy,
Who takes her to extraordinary places.

An ordinary guy who holds her hand out of nowhere,
An ordinary guy who romanticizes every stare.
An ordinary guy who looks at her with love in his eyes,
An ordinary guy who is ready for her, to live and to die.
An ordinary guy who asks her " Can I kiss you? ",
An ordinary guy who makes dreams come true.
An ordinary guy who makes stars sing,
An ordinary guy who makes flower rings.
An ordinary guy who left himself for her,
An ordinary guy who painted her with love colour.
An ordinary guy who looks at her like she's the only one,
An ordinary guy who makes the beats of her heart run.
An ordinary guy who sings love songs,
An ordinary guy who makes right out of wrong.
An ordinary guy who makes her write,
An ordinary guy who encourages her to fight.
An ordinary guy who calls her life,
An ordinary guy who wants to make her his wife.

I'm nothing but an ordinary girl,
who is deeply and madly in love
with this ordinary guy.

I am a lover
from the deepest parts of me
of words and of you