The pen feels permanent
So that when I raise the black liquid to my crimson lips
I must drink that steady flow of words;
And I am forced to swallow the bittersweet tang
of my meaning.
When I try to wipe the droplets of dark wine
from my stained lips
I find my hand comes out clean
But my lips, a little darker.
The pen feels permanent
So I must hold the cup steady
Or shadowed words will fall
And when I try to clean the dark blood
From the smooth floor
I find my crimson mess only spreads.
The pen feels permanent
And I will write each black word with care
So that the cup will stay untipped
And the words will remain unspilled.
So that when I raise the black liquid to my crimson lips
I must drink that steady flow of words;
And I am forced to swallow the bittersweet tang
of my meaning.
When I try to wipe the droplets of dark wine
from my stained lips
I find my hand comes out clean
But my lips, a little darker.
The pen feels permanent
So I must hold the cup steady
Or shadowed words will fall
And when I try to clean the dark blood
From the smooth floor
I find my crimson mess only spreads.
The pen feels permanent
And I will write each black word with care
So that the cup will stay untipped
And the words will remain unspilled.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
KaitlynC
CaptainFabulous.
sarahbug16
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