Pen
by T. Nicholas Fraser
A firm grasp.
A gentle hand.
Raising me upright.
Caress of a lover.
I feel myself drawn
Along the lines of another.
My insides are left
For the world to see.
I feel myself drain,
Parts being left behind.
My future is left
To the hand of a stranger.
Now I am alone,
Heart spilled on a page,
Until the next firm grasp
Of a gentle lover.