I try to draw a flower, a forget-me-not. Nothing flows from my pen.

I’ll sketch one perfect rose, to declare my love. It turns out wilted, withered.

I let my pen have its way across an empty page. When it stops, all I have to offer
is a broken heart.

Candace Kubinec posts her stories at storydribbles.wordpress.com and her poetry at rhymeswithbug.com.