ink

ink

ink was real

close

it painted the page

a quiet sound;

could touch, smell, see

red, different from

green, black and blue

writing still continues

with more shapes and colors

ink shelved

useless hues

frozen

in time

sometimes sneaks in

through

the ears

and

the nose.

​​​​​​​

I become a wet cloth

squeezed and hung

in the line

to dry.