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