my last working pen
with which I cut the Ts and the Ls and the Ys
after a few cups of ink have been bled
talking about you to the point of meaninglessness.
scribbling out words like "caress" and "bloom" and "us"
running out of paint and words
ink, blue, green, red and black
one color for each time you broke up with me
one color for each time I fell for what you had said.
