Ticonderoga

3262

Engraved

On a Ticonderoga

I reached to the back of my skull

And found the same number engraved

In me

Serendipitous utensils

I know how silly

Love can be

But why not believe,

Yellow slender;

Soul mate.

We are writing utensils

Intertwined

Flowing

Like letting go of a manuscript

In a windstorm

But you hurt me so.

Do I use you?

Or do they use me?

Were you here?

Is your motives for nothing,

But profit?

Is your heart not in it,

The way it once was?

It will feel like years

Until I see you again

But I’ve never loved

Like I love the pen

And once the door closes

I’ll curse your name

Wish the lips never parted

Slithering tongue

The picking of

flesh from bone,

My vulture

My muse

Moving me to new grounds

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