Storm in a teacup

Writing letters from the candlelight into the fire

The frying pan sits cold upon the stove unwired

This is an empty home I'm tired

But the moving finger carries all these feelings

For me so that I can carry on keeping secrets from you

Rain droplets streaking across windows flung open

The outside world spins faster as I get older

Caution rides the back of a furious wind

Ripping pages from my hands as if it's snatching precious rings

Married to the music I hear in my head alone

This lack of electricity I chose the moment I could not hold you

My wristwatch stopped the clocks

Unwisely ever-mesmerised by the tick-tock

Wisps of my hair are starting to tug free of the elastic

Dancing with white leaves to get my attention dramatic

But I'm too busy sighing all my oh whys to realise

The ending I'm writing is playing outright

The corset strings that bind are starting to unwind too tight

Soliloquys of self fulfilling prophecies

Self-told lies transforming into honesties

Polishing novels starring my pride and joy

Scratching out the noise of devices I deploy

Pouring ink into the well to fill the void