My fate was a blank page,
paper can be so patient,
awaiting the description of life,
to flow simply onto it.

Awaiting to be encumbered,
By the burdens of verse,
Only to be brought down,
By a simple spill of ink.

Ink stains the paper
like tattoos scar the skin.
Am I truly blank
If i’m covered in ink?

Thoughts of you fill
every facet of my inkwell.
Every, stroke of the quill
resembles your warm touch,

Each, verse mimics your
soft speech.
this collection of stanzas,
reflect your empathy.

This poem is about
the joining of two souls.
the anthology
will tell the story of us.