If all else was gone,

or I had to make a choice,

what could I never leave behind?

Love?

Friendship?

Money?

No I have been without those before.

A pen...

Without a pen,

the ink,

I would be destroyed.

No longer able to write down,

the mess of thoughts, 

the jumble of feelings, 

the complex that I am.

Paper is not needed.

I'll use the pen on the walls,

the ceilings,

my skin.

Without it,

I would no longer be able to connect to others,

strangers, 

and not-so-strangers.

No longer could I write beauty,

someone would never be able to touch,

but they could always see.

Nor would I be able to write an emotion,

that shocks one to their core

becuase they would see theirself in the swirls of words.

A pen will show me I am still here,

though I would not function nor think as everyone else would.

But those drops of ink will show me I am,

real...

alive...

and never alone.

And I can always create the beauty,

that I may oh-so-desire.