Me and my pen know your name.
Me and my pen know your games.
Me and my pen sharpen the strokes of the "F's" in your name. We drag the "I love him" with tightened fingers and soften the lines of "he hurt me again" with the looseness of my grip.
My pen purposely loses ink when it knows my heart wishes to vent to the paper.
My pen can tell by the way my fingers trembly rush to get it. The way my fingers hotly clutch its body as my glossy eyes loosely lead its head down the brown paper.
Lord, I swore to stop writing about him.
To stop sobbing about him in a dark room filled with breath hitches and tight chests.
To stop being so pathetic and grim.
To stop letting him win.
Me and my pen hate writing your name.
Me and my pen can't seem to get out of this game.
Me and my pe—
Me. Me and I we don't want to be the same.
I need to find a change.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry For HIM
PoetryThis is a collection of events, experiences and moments I have garnered throughout my life in respect to all the HIM's I have had. Enjoy the depths of my feelings, my average word play and my perspective of the different loves I've experienced. Life...
