There is Something Akin

There is something akin to a lover's embrace When you touch pen to paper and mar the white page A brushed kiss; a closeness; a straight line from the heart A power the tongue cannot well endure Emotions laid out, as if on a sleeve Thoughts freed from burning and bleeding inside A dance with the pen and with paper and language Joined all to let loose a passionate soul There is something akin to the bloodshed of war When you touch pen to paper and mar the white page A struggle; a battle; a wound in the heart A power the tongue does not dare endure