By Damien Knight
I ache physically and mental
The agony of silence torments me.
I need touch ever gentle
My eyes droop so sleepy.
All I think of is you.
Princess, my pages are blank
Even my rhymes have no clue.
How can I be frank,
100 degrees, losing inspiration.
Can’t write my poems or book
Good night for now my passion.
Meanwhile stay love and look,
At all I have done before.
Find comfort at my writing’s door.
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The Shade of Writing 