I came across this poem while I was trying to find a poem about individuals who love the art of writing.
When reading this poem it comes off a bit gloomy and grim, but in understanding the real meaning to the poem it gives it that fairytale ending one needs.
Unfortunately, I don't have a name to this poet even though I am a fan based on this poem. It was well written and included pain and loss that finally became a moment of clarity. A moment of triumph.
I Write By Unknown Author
no more than a wistful whisper
softly spoken words uttered
do you still write for me?
I don't want to reply
it's an answer to which you have no right
but the truth spills
in a voice of trembling defiance
even as I turn
and try to hide my eyes
I write to refill these empty chambers
where your pulse once echoed next to mine
where your voice used to chase my shadows
just to hold them
and then set them free
I write to dredge this well
and savor its sweet nourishing purity
each and every last drop
quenching the thirst in my spirit
before it inevitably dries up
I write to feel your arms
curved around my being
lips gently tracing every scar
to feel your fire char my ancient demons
and send them howling into the dark
I write because the mind
is a frail and fragile creature
prone to starvation
when the delicacy once lovingly fed
with gentle open hands
no longer offers even a morsel to sustain it
it will fail and one day forget
I write to carve the memory
into the marble pillars of my temple
to encase it in my foundation
as you fade away
and I am left alone
do I write for you?
no, darling
I write for me