My throat tightened with every word I wrote
Until my voice just broke
Coughed out the ink that my black pen choked
One look down at the paper is all it took
A whole well of an oily dark stain
Had gone and wrecked the only pretty words I’d lain
And the more I tried to erase the residue
The fewer words remained in view
I swallowed in anger at the slick on the page
But only felt my tongue stick on contact in my rage
I tore a good thing apart
With each part a perfect half
Each half formed a perfect whole
Our words take their toll
Thoughts have become blackened with ink. He hopes something will come
But now the good is covered by some other one