It knows my heart before I do.
It tells me what I hope, love, miss.
My pen reveals me to myself.
That's why I can't pick it up.
I don't want to know my heart, not right now.
I am afraid to know what I hope.
I am scared to find out what I love.
I am terrified that you are what I miss.
I can't bear to learn that I am right where I started.
Or even worse, find that I don't have hope.
Maybe I don't have anything to love.
Perhaps I am too lost to miss you.
I can't face my pen.
My pen reveals my heart.
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