Sentenced Poem by anais vionet

I wear my heart on paper
Ink fills my veins like blood
reviews cut like a razor
I'm addicted to the pen.

I pump words with every heartbeat
I hoard paragraphs in my room
I take interjections like a junkie
I wear verbs like perfume.

I'm feeling the contractions
as I erase awkward phrases
I write sad poems that feel like skin.
and fill sheets of diary pages

I blush at lurid pronouns
that I conjure then,
I consider putting word-play off
but I'm sentenced to the pen
.
.
.
*Inspired by Michael R. Burch's poem: At the Natchez Trace