I’m broken,

I can go no more.

It seems that everyone can find,

a friend except in dire times.

Believe me I’ve tried.

I’m beat,

No where left for me to meet,

Deserted here on this dilapidated street.

My words are frozen,

Left in some vampires coven .

I’m lost in a sea of people.

I need relief.

I need an out.

I need a solution,

But all roads lead me to forms of pollution.

I’m fuming,

Brimming to the top with anger,

Aggression, strife, bitterness.

Full of adjectives that will lead any person

to the bitter end.

I have no outlet.

I feel trapped in a sin

That seems to have no foreseeable end.

But you my dear porcelain parchment,

The lover of my black ink,

the silent truth that holds open arms,

and the only truth I see.

Help.

Your most ardent, faithful lover is in need.

Her ink has run dry.

Her passion being only to cry.

But if you come

I know you’ll try

To keep me safe .

I feel nothing.

People feel I’m bluffing,

But alas! darling ,

I believe that to be nothing.

But you can bring me life.

You may have a clue,

This love I have for you,

And can prescribe me a potion,

A brew,

Some stew to help cure me

From this emotional flu.

-Nj