One Night Stand

Since I have known to write my full name.
Since I have written my first letter to my sister, to my mom and dad.
Since I have written my first required poem.
Since I have learned to put in words what my heart is trying to say.
Until, I've got to make the earliest news and features in the campus.
To make essays for a cause.
Until this very entry you are reading...I already had an intimate relationship with them.


I had the intimate relationship with the letters.
Every night, I called them one by one.
Every time I wanted to play that very secret play, I called them one by one.
Like the caress of the prevailing winds in the grasses, these letters follow all my infinite wants. And we are engaged.

We're getting married every second that I want to, and that is through the elements of my imagination.
They are weaved by my ambitions and of my dreams. And for that, words become my slaves.
I behave with full of secrecy the moment I'm dating with my paper and pen. Like the waves of the sea in the shore, my hand and pen have their crucial agreement.
My pen ejaculates my ideas.
As that sticky and slimy ink draws the picture of my emotions -- pleasure, sadness or whatever. All of these things happen only in a night.

But there was a time -- our night was very dull.
It seems that letters were unwilling to connive with me.
They kept their silence despite of my million apology.

Even if they will be caressed by my hard, long and mighty sword pen.

Even if I made promises that I'll be giving them the moon, the stars and the sun.
Still, they nodded.

Seemingly, they were slaves that had learned to fight against the rules of their lord.

Until my sword weakens, asleep.

That was the night that we were not successful to bear words. That night, ideas were seeking for freedom. They were asking for them to be written and be translated into even words.
The sensation was over since words have bad feelings with me that night.