Write Now and Later

Darkness cracked by the beam of
my halogen lamp, the glow illuminates
the emptiness within the night.

The blood drips from the prick of
my fingertip, creating the shape of
a distorted rose on the dusty table.

The tip of my tongue stings
from the poignant taste of acrimony;
the depth of tender thoughts muted.

The words I desperately need stay
hidden within the convolution; speechless,
the silence wreaks havoc on my eardrums.

My pen is dry, the ink evaporated
from the inconsistent flow of diction;
these infatuations longing to touch the paper.

There is nothing so, I quietly wait.