Silk

Words fall straight to my pen
Like silk
Like silk

Creamy and Cool.

I sense my fingertips begin to dance.
Anticipating the drop of ink,

First
Melancholy
then,
Dread,
Next Anguish,

Heavy words dominate my flow
True,
Real words are the only writing I know
The words that slide off the pen aren’t easy,
I call it paper bleeding,
It’s me screaming to be heard

So, I’ll keep dancing
Leaving drops of me along of the way
No matter what people say.
They still fall
Like silk
Like silk.

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