Ode To The Lovely Miss Bic

Ode To The Lovely Miss Bic.


My pen is my lover,
I long to refill her
over and over again.

I search for her
when I am in the mood,
to express my urgings,
removing her from
one set of her
many drawers.

She dances with me
across a bleached
white rectangle
as I press the tiny
button on her end.

Then she comes with me,
in long slashing strokes
on exquisite journeys.

We stain the sheets
with shared passion,
she bleeds ink,
into which I
blend thought.

She lies comfortably
nestled in my hand,
smooth and slender,
copying my every move.

My pen is my lover,
laced between my fingers,
sharing my most
intimate secrets
with her every arch
each "O" and "G."

Lost in the "Y" of her,
till my mind grows weary
of her pleasure
then I offer her
a nightcap,
and stagger off
to my bed
alone again.

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