How beautiful is the pen when it graces the page

words decorating with passion and imagery

How silent is the woman’s tear

as it falls unto her unclaimed hand

coloring her body with a stain of progression

She finds comfort in her stories that end happily

A heroine must bloom into matrimony

the stagnation of a woman’s heart

in her own society, begs for an escape

to blossom with another uninhibited heartbeat

She burns with age that is always present

she fears to flicker out and leave nothing

but the misery in the hand that held her light

The writer ties herself to her own constraints

leaving her regretful but never wrong

She dips her pen into the ink leaving a mark

for others to build upon, her flame burns on.


Brittany Nelson, USA

One thought on “Flicker”

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