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.

Defeated.

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.