Snippets

Graphite

We both came from the graphite of a wooden pencil, but
she was the
elegant cursive
that danced across
the leaf
and I was the smudge of metallic grey on the side of one's hand. All my life, I was surrounded by writers that
found her beautiful,
for she could
fill a page with
crisp lines and
extravagant loops;
I was the only flaw that came with loving her. I kept thinking that I was only a nuisance, until I met him,
an artist.
He showed me that I was the reason
a sheet of snowy white
can be colored with
rich blacks and
subtle greys.
In his eyes, there are only so many letters you can put on a page,
while one picture
is worth
a thousand words.