A Pen and A Paper

All I have with me is a pen
and a paper. My best
friends. They are the only
ones who have caught every
drop of my tear and kept
every word I've said. Patient,
giving, longing nothing
in return. The pen may
not be a shoulder big enough to
cry on. But it fits in my
hand perfectly and follows its
every sway. It leaves a mark,
a dot, a letter, a sigh (haayy..
like so) depending on the
orchestration of my fingers.
It writes..

A lost passion
A broken friendship
A longing to hide in
a quiet corner
holding onto nothing but
a pen and a paper, my best
friends. They are the only
pair who withdraws judgment
and is comfortable with silence.
The paper sits and waits for
me to speak, to shed
a tear, to write a sentence,
and to finish a poem. And continues
to write..

A life given
A dream forgotten
An ounce of joy
evaporated
All I have with me is a pen
and a paper. My best
friends.

I think I should paint a clearer picture of who this sinful princess really is. It's not always that I'm upbeat and happy. Sometimes I feel like I've been thrown in the dumps where I couldn't climb out and escape. Last night for example, I was feeling so low and this was what my hands were moved to write.

I would like to add... But sadly these pen and paper don't talk. They are cold and lifeless. They cannot ever replace the bestfriends that I am greatly blessed with.