Sunday, January 31, 2016

The Unwritten

The pen twirls, slips into a trance:
new routine, unleashing black ribbons
onto the white reams -

Letters throb
in the crumpled hearts of paper.
Unsung melodies, beaten blue,
die deaths anew.

Lips look for words
that would be kissed
when we meet.

Eyes ink the face -
a letter never put to paper.

No comments:

Post a Comment