My Black Ink

It has been quite some time,

since my words flowed with ink,

upon a serene emptiness.

It forces my mind to think...

As I paint the canvas

black and white,

but only the black shows,

not the light,

only the darkness.

On a wintry night,

I paint the snow

with black ink.

It matches the dark,

and blends right in.

My black ink,

it grows too thin.

Once daylight arrives,

My black ink...

shall reveal a red,

upon the white

landscape,

as I lay beside it:

My black ink,

my only friend,

until the very end.

Reviews

[Ella]

This was an amazing story written in a breathtaking poem. Dark and sad! Great job I really enjoyed the end.

[SheIsMe]

Heartstopping...I gasped when I realized it was blood. Very enthralling. Good read!

[Emily]

Very good poem!
Well done!!
Keep it up!

[Coyote Poetry]

I had days. When paper and pen was only friend left.
"as I lay beside it:
My black ink,
my only friend,
until the very end."
I liked the thoughts leading to the very good ending. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

Coyote

[Isabella Disney]

Wow, very good. The while poem is great metaphor. :-)

[wordman]

your feelings bleeding out,black ink

[Jamestown]

Well written and delivered!
I can relate to this for sure,
sometimes the ink is my only friend:)
Thanks for sharing and b-blessed!

[PoeticChico]

Great poem, Thanks for sharing.