My Pen

Mechanical echo, a tunnel like clap
as I thumb your mirrored button.

Your keywork gloves with your cylinder of ink,
Spiralling, showing off your sharper, dark sided defence.
 
Decals of light shine down your metallic satin
business like gown
in spotlight towards the well where
your blue blood veins sleep.

Awoken by the smell of paper stories
of heroes slaying dragons,
Chinese money launderers living the American dream,
the homelessness of night and loves messy art.

You never discriminste,
Making me bare my naked soul,
Making me write down my dreams, crossing them out
and reminding me of what I can't have.

But I still love you.
I love you more for it.
You're the one.