don't give up on me

i stare at the pen,

then

shake it.

i hold it up to the light.

i lick the tip

with my tongue,

still bone dry.

really, i think.

you're out

of ink.

already.

six years you've been

in that drawer,

reliable

and sturdy, and now

this,

giving up, quitting

on me.

i'll have to bring it up

on Thursday,

during therapy.