Monday, July 13, 2015

When my heart takes the pen.

Biting my lips, I try scribbling furiously,
Searching, seeking, the right words.
Emotions weigh me down, but not my pen.
It finds no words to write.
Tearing yet another sheet,
I scramble towards the next in the pile,
I see blankness again.
No words, this time either.
Slowly, I let my pen drop,
And hide my face within my cupped hands.
The paper conquers over the writer.
I look up when the numbness in my body 
Overwhelms me.
Another cold night without fire.
And yet I waste these pages, with words
Unwritten, untold.
It's as if the paper taunts me, 
So I pick the pen up again,
Grimace, at the blot of ink, now adorning the carpet.
The page before me stares rudely,
In answer, I stare back.
For a second, only.
I assault the paper this time.
Hours later, I finally eye the rectangular sheet,
And marvel, for I won this time.
I understand now,
The page remains wordless when I search my head,
But words flow freely,
When my heart takes the pen.