A pen that loves, Idinye Eweha Favour (December 2025)

A pen that loves

Oh to be loved by an artist, 
the passage of time won't  
sweep your footprint. 

The last time I saw him, 
he hid away, passing a  
handwritten note through  
my torn door net. 

His yellow eyes glowed 
like my night lantern blown  
to the highest wick. 

It carried my first layered 
rose petals wrapped in a blade. 
Each word pushes the knife further.

 
The last time I felt him, 
the wall shivered, as my sorrow 
hugged their cold skins. 
Even my mother felt it. 

Each morsel was a stone 
dragged through my throat. 
Its scale is too restless to return.

 
Lament held me by my arm, 
refusing to let me outrun it, 
but dawn came trembling through.

 
I got an affidavit from God. 
His words run through my lungs. 
 
My love, stolen by a masked thief 
in the night. Even in silence, there is  
always a soft release of air.

But we are both at peace now. 
He, resting beyond pain & me 
learning to breathe again.