LOVE LETTERS

And so the poet writes on

Sitting, here alone in my chair
I wonder
Think
Ponder this life of constant ink

The paper is stretched thin
Transparent
Cold
Blank virginable white

Waiting
Stating it's own view
To be raped by my pen
Is nothing new

Ink scrawls across
Leaving a mark
A trace without fragrance
Teardrops to taste

Dry powder to dry up the dross
A tissue
To catch loves loss
Broken feather quill

Only the sound of scratching
Nib on chaste paper
To kill

Author's Note

Say what you may, tiss my heart on display

Reviews

[Lindsey]

I like this very much the way it was said can be taken in many ways making it helpful to many people.

[SamBug]

This was intense and awesome!!!

[FaithfullyJennyBear]

aww this is awesomely immensly greatly powefully awesome! x

[sarah]

Wow I don't even know what to say this is just really really great you should be very proud! great work!

[Ladysue]

oh this was exceptionally done...it does draw the reader and makes them think...you nailed this...powerful and moving...

[Kesha]

This was wonderfully beautiful, very good write and quite enjoyable :)

[lifesmith]

I think I should read this aloud to everyone who keeps asking me why I write poetry. So beautiful. I got goosebumps.
You brought the art of writing to life.

[Celeste21]

Rape is such a harsh/ crude word, but I understand it is needed to portray the intensity with with you must express yourself. That made this poem feverish.

[KATHY SUE SILLS]

This is remarkable, you hit the pen right on the paper of how so many writers feel!

[Terra]

like it :)