I am more in love with the fresh, naughty
a crispy touch of the paper of my Hallmark Diary
than inking it with my words.
I am more in love with the royal and elegant
straight body of my pen
than forcing it on a paper.
I am more in love with the smooth keys
Of my laptop, that makes eargasmic sounds
As I type my feelings incoherently.
I don’t like writing at times
During summer days
that call me out of my safe haven for an adventure
away from pen & paper.
During dark night times when the open computer screen
cajoles me to type my buried emotions
the ones that are hard to dig out.
During the unstable state of my mind,
when anger burns my wings
and indignation writhes in my soul
wishing how easy would it be
if the paper could emote my feelings on its own
of so many heartbreaks and insecurities
that I didn’t have to sit and face that stupid blank screen
doubting my words and my whole existence.
Those times, I truly loath to write
As I realize I am a paraphernalia of so many unsaid words
That only deserve a paper ?