Twenty days is a long time
to not write anything.
I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last.
I like telling you how I feel
in the same way you enjoy.
Sometimes it’s better to write it
so you can keep it
and reread how I feel.
I guess I'll write until the ink runs out
and the words sound wrong
leaving a bitter taste in my mouth
and my paper empty.
When I’m with you
I can fill a paper with how much you mean to me.
The words can always spill onto the page.
The ink flows from me like blood
and it won’t clot
as long as I have you.