No Ink.

You are effervescent,
glowing,
your words drip
with the poison that gives me energy when I am weak.
You are strong beyond your
years,
you have known pain
that even adults cannot acutely handle.
You are the sweat on my body
when the temperature
climbs
too high and I still refuse
to sleep without blankets.
You are the chills along
my spine when
the wind shifts
and whispers its lies into my ear.
I am scared of the future without you in it,
but it is the one I
have signed
myself up to live
with a pen that
had no ink.

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