A blot of ink I see,
pen pressed hard to the paper.
Thinking hard for a good start,
When only two lines later,
I start to pour my heart on to the paper,
Old stories of old memories,
Some secrets I spill,
Things that backspace can't ****,
Making confessions.
Striking off the mistakes.
Later waiting for the
Liquid heart to dry on paper.
Smudging won't fade it away.
I run my fingers over the
letters,words,sentences,
Not forgetting the punctuations.
Making my blind heart read.
I close the cap thinking of this deed.
Making recitations,
Trying hard not to bleed.