The Ink Has Dried
As I try to pen my thoughts onto paper,
The ink has dried,
Not only in the pen,
But, as well as my mind.
There are no more thoughts
No words dance,
Silouettes have gone behind doors
And closed words to the darkness.
Loneliness plays a vicious game
When there are no words left to be spoken,
The ink has dried
My heart lies, broken.
Reminiscence of words
Dance on old pages,
As I put my dried up old pen away
Turn off the light and remember the good old days.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Feb.22/2006
The door will be closed forever.
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The Ink Has Dried
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