Poetry / Word Lover

My word lover’s desire lies on linen.
She smears ink and strong coffee on my soul
leaving me stained.

I dip my quill into those encounters.
Inspirations succor for this poets heart;
memories traced are my art.

Wishes left dangling are what I write;
those ink dreams taste bittersweet.

Word lover comes late.
She leaves me drained; stained by
the brew that lingers for others to taste.

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