This is the first sentence that this pen has a written. Can you tell? of course not. You can't see the indentations left on the sides of this paper, the ink on the tip of my tongue, your name. My ears I hear the laughter I learned to love you and hate myself. Over and over I sliced off little pieces of me to send you in the mail to show you I was still alive. We were children roaming city streets at midnight looking for the one light left on, inside you is a hurricane I can feel its winds when you speak and and its rain when you cry. I floated my boat in the storm clouds above your head and caught your thoughts on the end of a fishing line. I sold the pretty words you only told me to afford to buy the present you destroyed when I betrayed the gift you gave me, your trust and your heart.