Poem: That Truth

source: bahance.net

My pen's at lost for words, as it says

I'm losing my touch

that we argue in loud,

clouded.

 

"I don't lose mine",

shouting--

-as it starts to suffocate within the grip of my hand.

"It's her touch that's gone".

 

The grip is so tight that it can't speak.

But rather,

It penned itself some words,

Hesitatingly.

 

"Try not to read it out loud, or else--" it whispers.

"-you'll break to pieces."

And I learn it

silently.

 

"Truth is--

-we don't lose thing we don't have"

And that silence

still tears me apart.