The way she holds my pen I can barely write this. Such smooth tenderness her hand caressing the very tool filled with palatial ink, shining as she guides my crest on a page covered in illustrious garland. Her grip tightening, thoughts of me composing in tiny drips trailing the edge of her fingers yet the ink hasn’t darkened. She teases the tip with little tongue, producing a stronger flow of ineradicable talent as my veins prepare the arrival of derivative penmanship. The pen explodes, ink devouring every inch of her facial structure with my signature….. she teases her lips, samples her fingertips, leaving kisses all over our page. God she loves my ink pen.
May I write some more?…….. there’s plenty of ink left.
– C.A. Thomas