the night grows curious

as soon as she lights the lamp

she moves the chair in place

with a groan and a screech

it obliges

she picks up the pen

the ink resists the flow

refuses to let go

a violent jerk forces it to action

half-hearted,

the pen gives into submission

but only to run blank on paper

leaving mad invisible scribbles

it breaks its heart

to see her yet hurting

words witness to her tears

she speaks to no one

but the pen knows all too well

it is her secret-keeper

her shoulder to cry on

how it hates

hates to have to ink

that one name

that’s left her broken

detests having to write

his story again and again

she is writing no more

drained she is

but the pen goes on

dripping venom

venting

trying to get rid

of its own

helpless plight

before the end of the night

~~~~~

Asha Seth