Tired eyes stare down the page,
"Write for me, my love,
So I may surrender my pen."
No words bleed forth this night
And so, I half expected.
The thoughts that plague my mind,
...and never will be...
meant for searching eyes.
Yet, I may not lay down my pen.
It holds some comfort for me still.
"Yes my dear, you are my Love,
my obediant weapon of release."
If only my pen knew, the treachorous emotions within.
of which there is no acceptance.
Such wonderfully delicious lines,
that will never be scrutinized by hungry eyes.
For they are mine,
And mine alone,
To remain in my mind...