The words danced on the page, laughing at me.
Love? Desire? Ha!
They taunted me with
every stroke of the pen.
So cool, so cultured, my voice,
a voice so familiar to the words
whose identities always eluded grasp.
Ink salivated from the mind down, forming
a coherent puddle on paper, as my
letters blurred and ran together,
mocking and outsmarting me,
and all I could in return was
laugh back at them as
the crumpled paper
flew past the rim
of the trash bin.
They danced no more.