.

When words are sharp, and clash like iron blades,
I swallow swords. I grimace, turn away.
You fear I wield a shield, that love will fade,
That wordless I our promises betray.
Yet iron sharpens iron, I have heard,
And so I breathe and write and learn to speak.
This love for you unlocks my vault of words:
Let them leap forth, as stars the night sky streak!
But if my speech shone clear—what could I do?
I still would turn, exultant, to my pen.
No words of mine can make this truth so true
I need not shine it, shout it yet again.
This ink, this tongue will never be enough.
You, my dear, I love, I love, I love.

.

.

Alena Casey is a poet and writer from Indiana. Her poetry has been published with The Road Not Taken, Sparks of Calliope, and The Author’s Journal of Inventive Literature. When she is not reading, writing, or taking care of her three children, she sometimes blogs at strivingafterink.wordpress.com.


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