Ballpoint Blues

A brushstroke
feel you down
tips of my fingers
edge of your lines
into storms
excited nights
long afternoons
sunny parks
darkened bars

filled with smoke
feel you here
in every stroke.

black or blue
you have me both.

Sickly words
clear defined
crumpled worlds
softer lines
raised or leveled
deaf or blind
screamed out or
kept so quiet
hear you've spoken
though it's silent
feel your words
cruel and kind
into dark

kept in light
through this pen
reluctant and slight
I feel it all
feel all your lies.