I'm writing letters to you;
this room has never felt so cold;
the pen churns out no ink
or words; I'm trying to write to you.
Words are dormant in my head,
repeating but not being expressed,
they lie idle in my head,
and bear no existence to you.
In the dark, when the light goes off,
I compose conversations in my head;
they never see the light of day,as I don't
say a word, or have ink in my pen.
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