On The Board of White

Swish, squiggle
Lines appear.
I see the wet ink
Glistening
On the board of white.

I smell
The freshness of the ink.
I feel
The wet slick surface as I erase
The bright colors drawn in my life.

If a noxious darkness
Arose from the dirty ground
I would rush
Not for the scissors
Not for the staples
But for you.

I would draw
Silly mustaches
And smiling faces
On the dark
Until it disappeared out of shame.
 






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