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.