Pens and Pages

I promised him, I won't write a poem again... It's been more than a month now Yet I have written a million on my heart A million on my mind, my soul, in between conversation, in pieces, in whole... I have written them time and again, never to be read, never to be heard, never to be told For I kept a promise I dearly hold, Never to write a poem again, unless I am told Oh, the pictures can't describe what I feel, Where are the metaphors? I am done with the reel. Where are the words? For you can't read my mind. Where are the innuendos or the shy gestures from the divine? Oh, how can I be myself if I don't pause to think, to write. To experience is heaven, but no more poems is a sacrilegious crime I break the promise today, to unveil another one No more poems on Facebook, but many more on the leaves of my mind...