Une Stylo

PS- "UNE STYLO" (oon stee-lo) IS FRENCH FOR "A PEN"

In writing black; the ravines sad; on white landscapes unseen.
Some untold lies, unknown cries; and a fleeting memory of a companion.
A friend by pen, a coincidental name sake, someone who made the falling sands fall slow.
Standing against the blurry world, still inspires my une stylo.

It’s been so long; and it’s been so barren, achingly tiring at times;
to shift through pages, blank empty pages; waiting,for more to be written.
For more words, of heat, of ice; anything. 
for those black ravines to again flow;
Out of what has been, your long idle, teasing une stylo. 

But those unsaid words, those helpless emotions, which didn't get to ride;
not even on stuttering crippled words.
They stayed hidden, like unwritten phrases on face of a writer who suddenly ran out of ink…
With his last resort gone, there is little he can do, little he can show.
Just stare, holding in his shivering hand, an empty une stylo. 

And those hungry emotions, they devoured the insides, crawling;
a million spiders.  All trying to escape; 
And in finding none, they resort to scratching; rough, inkless scratches on paper…
Switching to the perennial ink for what had become an empty stick willow.
From the feverish, desperate scrubbing had come out blood, which now fuels this red une stylo.