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The Dry Pen

The pen has run dry

It doesn’t carve anymore poems,

The day you left, the day you never looked back,

The pen had run dry.

Forever yours, together always

You said, but words mean nothing right

As you have gone

Making the forever end now.

The pen sometimes crawl back up to my fingers

But the lines that I leave behind are a shadow of the ink it held

For the pen has run dry.

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