Ink – By: D.e.e.L

I used to seek pleasure in my memories

indulge into the love I thought I had

I used to view myself as gifted, talented

now the pen is filled with corroded ink

black as the dust of words it brings

each faded into worthless meaning by her heart

I know what love is only because I crave it so

she sends me a letter to remind me that I do not have it

the mark of the poet sending my bloody veins to the depths of me

to the depths where they find the fire to ignite me once more

the fire of despair that turns the ink to poison

the poison that I lay to paper

the paper that holds my heart in flames


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