A Writer's Quill
I am nothing but a quill
that feathers ink across the page
creating dreams and fantasies
for someone's mute, lonely eyes.
A spill of ink is like the solace
of an unhurried self-caress
stretching over one's silken skin
with quiet whispers and sighs.
Plots thicken as blood settles
to pool where society's taboos
are erased and covered up
but flourish in most bleak lives.
Eyes are drawn across the page
following these words as climax
builds to a frenzy, eyes frantic
looking for entranced release.
I am nothing but a quill
that drips ink across a page.
©2008 Mysty Johnson
