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Image for the poem He Never Left Me

He Never Left Me

   
I thought my pen left me….  
Thought he packed up before night could      
kiss the lips of early sunrise  
suitcase suffused with empty pages    
My uninspired phases    
of having no tales to tell, no stories to sell  
just nude thoughts sheathed in confusion,  
resting in the bottom of a dried inkwell  
   
I thought my quill walked away  
felt he overstayed his stay  
leaving me alone amidst my mental chaos  
where agony thrived and sanity attempted poetic- suicide  
Confining me, subliminally  
in a cage that held my fallacious reasoning  
behind a brick wall built with writer’s block hands    
   
He never left me.  
He waited and anticipated the moment when we would  
stain lineless paper with saturated diction    
leaving moist verbs, soaking stages with spoken words,  
Seducing readers until cognitively slurred,  
from inebriated images scribed with a climatic reed    
too explicit for innocent eyes to comprehend  
   
I paid homage to my pen for patiently waiting  
I licked the tip of his Bic so he could hit his high quick  
lyrical juices pumping, ink-strokes deliberately slow    
we could call this the beginning of an artistic afterglow  
but in actuality it’s just me,  
brushing rust off my Poetic-flow  
   
Written by rain1courtel (RainC)
Published | Edited 1st Apr 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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