I don't write as much

The words don't flow quite the same

Like the ink in this pen has dried

Now there's nothing left to do

But wait for it to burst

Covering me in these little words

Trace the black lines of your name across my ribs and arms

Tattoo everything you've ever said on my skin

To go over again and again

Now I hope these stained hands can burn the way they used to

That I might heat this ink, watch it go up in smoke

So it might free my tongue

I say a million things over and over

What else is there?

I'll watch these stygian clouds curl

Make these mirages to vanish with the wind

Flashing beneath my eyes as I lay to rest

Your name, your face

On repeat 

Catching in my throat

The need to make something beautiful

That this ink might wrap my tongue, my fingers

Give me the words to sweep you off your feet

The way I wish I could

That I might reciprocate that feeling you give me

That heart pounding shortness of breath

That constant shake in my legs

Watch my eyes run in these green droplets

To fall upon our hands

A peaceful chaos in our shared glimpses

Can you see the ink on me?

This desire to turn all I feel

All you are

To lines and words on paper

As though twenty six letters

Could do justice 

To the myriad of emotions you give me

I can barely name them

But I'll burst this pen, attempting to write into being

This oxygen you crave