I like the smell of my roundtip pen
The aroma of security
When no one else is watching me
With concrete words but abstract language
Wafting around
With a trail of memories
I like the smell of my roundtip pen
As organization makes its way
To make no sense across my page
But the lines still welcome me
And paper inhales my font like that of a drug
I like the smell of my roundtip pen
Once the odor of confusion escapes my palm
Transforming into an elaborate fragrance
That others call poetry
And they all should know
I like the smell of my roundtip pen
An essence of escape
A perfume of thoughts that contain
Inscribed memories
Cursive wished
And detailed anxieties
The stench of regret evades me
The minute I begin
And that is why
I like the smell of my roundtip pen