As I lay helplessly down to sleep, I began to ponder on the plans for the day ahead.
Tranquilly, as nature started pouring its blessings, I clasped on to my pillow in bed.

As my eyes orbited the semi-dark room; my attention was captured, I could no longer sleep.
A fierce of pain crawled up my chest. I hesitated; should I pick you up? Should I let you be?

I continued to ponder on the day ahead but you reversed my memory to a falsehearted lane.
I doubted my feelings, tried to be strong but emotions crumbled up and conquered the pain.

As you posed lifelessly, I felt no remorse. You deliberately resurrected those bittersweet years.
I dashed in anger from this cold, isolated bed, to hold on, just hoping you would dry my tears.

Finally, I held on to you delicately yet fierce; I tossed you around as the emotions ran deep.
I couldn’t feel your heartbeat; so I waited patiently, to grasp some air in the shadows of sleep.

As I embraced you tighter I could feel your ache though I smiled at you but you delivered no spark.
And your bittersweet recollection kept racing my mind it pierced my heart so weightily in the dark.

You glided so bitterly, so bitterly loved, so bitterly wounded as you danced away so bitterly blue.
The agony reflected in your still body but an old withered paper was my only offering to you.

But as you marked the paper with angry passion, I could barely hear your prints whilst it rained.
Intensely I grasped as you started to shiver but your inner voice unfolded, it unleashed all the pain.

You lay mutely as you hungrily blemished the paper, so silently at this hour of your sour distress.
A heart engraved with decency, brimming with compassion, one that has drifted to a treasured chest.

Weary drops resounded on this innocent paper, created a rhythm though the notes sounded flat.
And as you stumbled on this battered rose, you devoured each petal and left just thorns in the heart.

Your gentleness inevitably overflowed to the brim, a world which collapsed and has drifted away.
Your echoes were soundless, your mind’s unreadable, your ink is now faded, what more can you say?

Strength is now seized, you’ve deceived me and gone, with no apology, knowing you’d run dry.
But If I ever lay helplessly down to sleep ‘Emotional Pen’, if I ever reminisce, should I even cry?

By: Melissa Paul Bissember


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