Rut Poem by Megan Tucker

I keep writing myself into mud-holes and becoming stuck,
another rut in the paper world.
I’ll write myself into something faraway,
just to get myself through the night.
I’m only truly happy is she is so,
without her these lonely hands rest in my pockets feeling so alone.
Maybe listen to a sad song on the radio,
but the phone is glued to my ear and all I get is the dial tone.
My fingers are slipping over these keys,
I’m running out of words and choking on my breathes.
The extension cord won’t reach to far,
I’m in a tangled mess.
Lost in this paper world of ink and lead.
Whats there to write but heart broke words that never leave the paper?