my pen told me a secret last night.
Woke me from sleep and divulged in me
His clandestine pleasures.
I remember
He spoke of the passion he felt to get intertwined with my fingers;
Longing to make love to the letters of my heartbeat
between the sheets of parchment paper.
We got lost in the rhythm of eight beats and John Keats and intricately connected we started to breathe.
We snuck into the night to ascend our dreams and make love to the sonatas of the lit moon beams.
The stars danced in the sky as I crossed his tears and dotted my eyes.
My pen danced with me last night.
