Ink

My secrets lie beneath the blue-black ink on the pages of a stolen notebook. They are recorded with infinite care, and scribbled out with equal precision, meaning the words are illegible…yet so concretely there.

The yellowing pages silently whisper my confession back to me, and the sprawl of dark pigment promises to never tell.

I turned the indentations over the page into flowers, and wrote poetry about the truth being hidden in plain sight, for beneath the stains I see myself laid out bare and bright for the world to see, if only they stayed long enough.

Sometimes I wonder if one day the words will be free, and the sketched flowers not a way to conceal, but a bold declaration of what is, and what forever will be.

But, at least for now, I am content with writing my secrets in stolen notebooks, and hiding them beneath more ink.

Reviews

[Bala Gorthi]

It is a good piece to read.
Every written word reflects some aspect or thought process of its creator. I like what you wrote in the second para. The word ink is really touching here. Colors give form. Otherwise they will be just formless thoughts.
I like the idea, your message and its presentation here....
I enjoyed reading your write.
Keep sharing more. :-)

[grace.b]

Thanks,
The second paragraph is really personal to me, so I'm glad you liked that part, I tried to be as sincere as I could. :)

[Paul E Mahlum]

This is beautifully written. I really like the mood of the piece. There lots of feeling in it.

[christina sherin]

great .I loved reading it.I love the last line :)