They say she couldn't read between
the lines, like the page was scrawled
with shapes of black ink, without
the formation of words.

Perhaps this was true.

I once saw her
put paint on wet skin and wonder
why it all rolled away, and asked
me why she looked so pale.

Maybe some
of us creatures just can't see
what lies beneath the tree,
or deep beneath the ocean
top where you dive in and
found yourself bitten.

This is just how it is,
but sometimes, the lines
are only there for show,
and life just writes free hand
anyway so you're forced
to find the order
amongst the
mess.