The Pen

I write for you,

The scribbles from my pen delight your eyes,

Hope begins to swell in me,

Joy drips from my veins.

I write for you,

Like an attention starved child,

The ink fresh with excitement,

The longer you read the wider I smile.

I write for you,

Addicted to the encouragement,

Pushing you to continue on,

I need this more than I ever had known; its a feeling that I’ve never missed, it has found itself a home in my chest.

I write for you,

You’re reading too fast,

You’re not understanding the spaces in between the nonsense,

I need this, please, my work demands more than a momentary lapse.

I write for you,

The font is bolder so you see it’s deep,

The meaning is louder so you don’t have to think,

Desperate becomes my own pens’ ink,

I WRITE FOR YOU,

YOUR NODS DON’T FEED ME AND NEITHER DOES YOUR LAUGHTER,

YOU’RE NOT READING IT RIGHT,

I NEED YOU TO BE THE HAPPY I AM AFTER!

I WRITE FOR YOU,

THE LIGHT FONT REPLACED WITH RED,

COMPLACENT YOU PUTS ME BACK IN MY HEAD,

I CAN’T BE IN THAT PLACE ALONE, NOT AGAIN!

I WRITE FOR YOU,

THE LINES ARE BLURRY AND UNREAD,

MY SKINS LIE WADDED UP IN A PILE UNDER YOUR BED,

I AM LOST WITHOUT YOU, PLEASE READ THEM! PLEASE READ THEM! PLEASE!