A.B

the feel of the pen on the page

the ink spilling out unhindered

onto soft smooth paper

is my constant

a mast I cling to steadfastly

which I can depend upon

just as my heart will squeeze

when I listen to

“You must believe in Spring”

and be unable to push away

your smirking image

if through the tangle 

of fate, decisions and chance

that chokes our lives

and be strewn together again

our tensions and struggles

dissolved into something deeper;

then I imaging making love to you

would be like writing

the creativity springing from my fingers

leaving your skin hot and burning

we would cling together

as sure as I hold my onto my pen

ready to turn myself inside out

a performance on paper

which now takes place in reality

creating a certainty

that once you finish

either writing or lovemaking

you will never be the same

as when you begin