Writing In The Dark

Stapled sheets already half used.
Folded and marked upon: abused.
The scribbling sound heard in the dark
is me with a creative spark.
Not time to rest, no need to sleep.
I'll try not to make a peep.
Poorly propped up under the covers.
The packet and I are secret lovers.
I freeze up when motions near.
My scribbling they should not hear.
Under the covers we will go.
Our love affair no one will no.
Just let me be so I may write.
I'll know when to say goodnight.