I’m not Here
![A quail pen on a paper beside an ink bottle](https://coffeehousewriters.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/kira-auf-der-heide-lyLA3qIxFjM-unsplash-660x400.jpg)
Blank papers rustles about by the wind
Dried ink pots are cracked from neglect
I suppose there are lines I’m supposed to write
There are emotions I expect to pour out
But I think I rather bury them deep within
So here’s what I plan to do instead
Why don’t I give you my quail pen?
To write down the earnest words you long to hear
Why don’t I leave the choice of words to you
I’m not here—at least that’s what I want you to believe
So with my head bowed, I let you write as though you’re me