Writing In Pencil

Writing with a sharp point,
the pencil makes its mark easily commanded
by thoughts sent to my hand through my arm
from somewhere inside my brain.
You become a part if me,
instinctual and subconscious;
A simile flows easily.

I can’t smell the eraser burning now
as I all too often do,
dutifully smearing the mistakes
but never fully removing them.
You leave little pink reminders
of my blunders across the page
which I hastily wipe away
before anyone sees them.
-2005