Pearl eyes and marble teeth, fascinated stares at
white noise. Blank minds lack the luster to imagine blank pages
as empty canvases, much less possess the passion to use those pages
to create a lilac sky over a hurricane-ridden land; or the fervor
to teach blue-striped paper the simple act of breathing.
Yet for all their programmed-oblivion, they can't help staring at her:
the girl frantically scribbling her wit's end into thousands of those
once-blank pages. They can't comprehend how
a creature like her could possibly exist
in a place like this. C8H10N4O2 replaces adenine, thymine, guanine, and cytosine.
Her coffee ground hair smells of ink. Caffeinated narcissist they call her.
But they can't see the scenes carved by her elegantly frantic
hands. Their static minds wouldn't be able to comprehend
the language she used to describe how when the mechanic she loves
isn't with her, her lungs feel like an engine with pistons compressing
the air inside. Nor could they understand how one girl with frazzled-latte thoughts, and
burnt-caramel eyes could create so many parallels between
a baby's cry and the struggles of a high school perfectionist. Their knowledge
is far too void to appreciate the way an ink-stained face can bring to life
flowers, birds, and a young girl with a hurricane-ridden heart
falling in love under a lilac sky.
They call her an over-caffeinated narcissist, but the truth is
she was the only pure, unplugged genius.
And coffee was just who she was.
YOU ARE READING
Ink Stained Soul
PoetryAnecdotes and snapshots of life, sometimes mine sometimes based off of other people, events, songs, books, etc. I hope you enjoy it, but more than that, I hope you can connect with something bigger than all of us. After all, isn't that the point of...
