I never stop writing.
Although, I do forget my pen, sometimes.
I forget that ink exists
and that my fingers have the ability to type,
but I never stop writing.
When I fell in love
poetry still surged into the tips of my fingers,
but my passion was written solely onto the one I hold true.
The curve of his spine has since felt more lines
then any page I have ever written,
including this one.
There are many pieces
that will remain eternally transparent,
just know that they’re resting,
with my hands, on his skin.
I never stopped writing;
I merely fell in love with a new medium.
© Siera Carpenter