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Dear Mr. Paper
A blank paper
An untouched paper
Preferably in this color, pearl white.
A pen in hand, an open mind,
An imagination running to its fullest capacity
My fingers begin to tingle
The rush in my brain begins to explode with ideas.
The words just come, like innumerable bombs
They fire away and they don’t stop.
It hears the sounds of my wail
The pleading of a cure that won’t ever come.
It tastes the tears that shed
The rain that poured and drenched the thin rough paper.
It feels the sharp touch
The quick poetic words.
It observes the happiness of my soul
The colors shine through the sheet when the tears have past.
This blank paper,
It’s so patient with me
It comforts me when I’ve done wrong.
It listens when no one’s there.
With such wide-eyed lucidity, it accepts:
My affectionate words, my inspirational imagery.
My heartbreaking words, the tears and the life difficulties.
My outraged words, my temper enraged with devious thoughts.
My tranquil words, the soothing simplicity of my soul.
For only your Mr. Paper,
You sniff the scent of my world in words
You listen to the chords of my soul
You savor the teardrops of unbearable grief I poor out
You see the vital truth between the lines
You hold my pain with your jagged palm
And for all that you do, I love you.
Here, I’ll leave my heart on this paper
This simple insignificant piece, out of all the rest
In the end of this—
This blank paper,
Is no longer untouched.