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#blackink
She only writes in black ink; her thoughts are much too dark for the blue.
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Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 8:39 AM UTC
When She Writes (15w)
It was an idle evening And I was sitting in the lap of Past Resting my head on her chest As she slightly moved her hands through my hair. I told her about....when I painted With colours and brushes....a colourful world of mine When canvas and sheets were drenched with bright colours Bright colours like red, yellow, green, orange and so on. But now...I can't even recognize them They are lost in some dusty drawers Somewhere I can't even remember Now I live in a world of black and white White pages drenched with black ink... Did I lose my bright colours? Or am I just homing in this black and white world of mine?
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Oct 27, 2020
Oct 27, 2020 at 2:52 AM UTC
From canvas to white pages....from paint brushes to black pens
It aches, it twitches, Thee heart beats are off tune. Its burning in the acid it created, Trying to numb itself with physically pain, To help ignore the spiritual. Red ink clogging its system up, As it starts to self destruct on itself. Unable to handle the black ink, That's making its self known amongst the red. Sync does not happen in a unstable heart, Only scit **** beats that are signs of a deep sleep to come.
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Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC
A Unstable Heart