She~the words

It’s a strange relationship we have

this steely pen and I.

At times we have moved together as lovers

and at times been like enemies at war.

She has held me close in her twisted grasp

and listened to whispered words.

She has silently stood in the corner and watched

as I cut myself and I bled.

She has cloaked herself in a gauzy veil

onionskin, or vellum, unclear.

She has rolled herself up in a scroll tied and bound

so I could not read a line of her words.

She has left me in silence the inkwell gone dry

as I have wandered around in this place.

She has called to me jeering in a single line phrase

and then left me with nothing to say.

I have looked for myself in the reflection of her

in etchings left scratched upon glass.

I have listened intently for some sign of what I feel

in the melodies sung in her voice.

She teases, she tempts me, she taunts me

the whispers just too faint to discern.

She haunts me, she tortures and betrays me

and all of this is something unheard.

I can only stand against her

with two simple tools in my hands.

A ragged piece of paper with edges tattered and torn

and a broken, dripping, ink bleeding pen.


*submission for Open Link Night at dVersePoets.com*