As the words drain from my pen
I feel a small part of my existence
Break off and drift away forever.
Is this the dowry of my soul?
Have I traded love, laughter, happiness
For these few expressive words?
Wrought so painfully from my self,
They are laid down on white linens;
Virgin thoughts on a honeymoon of apprehension.
They await the violating eye's approval;
Flushed and expectant, saved for so long;
Wooed and waiting for this moment of consummation.
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