Blank Pages

Yearning to be inked,
Coloured with what I feel,

They speak to me,
When silence surrounds me,

With hopeful white eyes,
They crave the touch,

Of the tip of my pen,
Wanting to feel the smooth strokes,

Loops and curves,
Carved upon their pure selves,

So vulnerable, so light,
Yet so powerful,

They want me to splatter,
Pour out my bleeding heart,

To put them out of their misery,
To unseal their lips,

And set them free,
All they want,

Is to be whole,
That is what they say,

When these blank pages,
Speak to me.



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