Sometimes I press too hard on the pen
And it breaks
It takes little effort these days to cause a tiny rupture or even a stain.
All I want to do is express my pain in writing or moreso with a short tale.
Maybe someday I'll tell you without an ounce of shame.
When his scent no longer invades my senses
Or the colour of maple leaves and his brown eyes reaching out for me in the darkness.
Someday when I no longer think of his sweet words and vague comparisons.
Or sniff the sheets in his absence.
Now's he's gone on to another victim
As I lay there staring at the ceiling.
The fantasy gradually waning.
With the broken pen silently mocking my fate
it's spilled contents scattered all over the hard floor.
Maybe someday I'll tell you a broken tale
Of painful memories and heartbreaks
But surely not today.
Ella Paul 2022





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