Pen

The inkwell’s dust, a bitter, graying stain,

The words used to reign, like wildfire, where once.

A hollow echo where my verses slept.

The promises I’ve kept now only ash.

You were the muse, the sun, the burning core.

That is the reason why my restless spirit soared.

Fragile, hopeful plea, each whispered word.

A tapestry of love just for thee.

Threads unraveled, colors turned to night,

The light was extinguished and silence fell.

The weapon was turned to rust, the pen lies still.

A broken vessel, my heart turned to dust.

No more the rhymes, the rhythms, and the grace,

A vacant space receiving just phantom touches.

The burning poems, a pyre in my soul,

All beyond my own control and I consumed all.

I’d make a whole world of fire for you to stare at…

Walk through flames in love’s destructive haze.

A thousand deaths, a sacrifice untold,

Before the world grows cold, for one last glance.

Fire, even in its consuming might,

In the lonely night, the embers will fade to.

A shadow, I lost within the smoke and I.

That finally I have spoke, await the word.

Kirti 🥀