Poem: Pencil

Night after night
I sharpen the thought of you
like a pencil
but cannot get the point
fine enough.

Night after night
the pain shaves me so exact
that I could blunt
at your slightest touch
break at your lightest word.

You could use me
as a weapon
if you wanted one -
I could draw blood for you
I could hurt.

Night after night
I lie awake
like a compass
dreaming of the directions
your words could take.


There you go. And please, no jokes about putting lead in your pencil and / or Eraserhead. That really will be the straw that breaks the Camlin's back.