The sun illuminates
My pen
A swirling beautiful thing
With deep blues like the corner of
A dangerous sea
The light fl-ic-k-e-rs
Across the page
Thick, smooth paper
The ink rolls across it
Like a wave rolls
Onto a pure white beach
It dries a matte-black.
The words curl into
Each other
Ugly writing
Pretty words
Ugly outside
Beautiful inside.
Sometimes, I suppose
That is how the world
Was meant to work.
So I fold these words
Into the embrace of
An envelope
And I hope you will look
Through
The barely legible writing
To see the beauty
Concealed beneath,
Because I wrote these words
For you.
May 12
May 12, 2026 at 3:22 PM UTC
The sun illuminates
My pen
A swirling beautiful thing
With deep blues like the corner of
A dangerous sea
The light fl-ic-k-e-rs
Across the page
Thick, smooth paper
The ink rolls across it
Like a wave rolls
Onto a pure white beach
It dries a matte-black.
The words curl into
Each other
Ugly writing
Pretty words
Ugly outside
Beautiful inside.
Sometimes, I suppose
That is how the world
Was meant to work.
So I fold these words
Into the embrace of
An envelope
And I hope you will look
Through
The barely legible writing
To see the beauty
Concealed beneath,
Because I wrote these words
For you.
Don't really know where I was going with this one, would love some feedback. Does it make sense, do you know what I am writing about?