They say I write a lot
Maybe it's because only the paper understands
Maybe it's because the paper never questions
Maybe it's because the ink is willing is bear
My insanity and whatever else I have there
Maybe it's because the books make no demands
They don't reprimand
Maybe it's because the pages aren't human
They can't hurt
They can't leave
Maybe it's because the pencils have no faces
And I can clean them without leaving traces
Maybe it's because my fingers itch
A terrible ache to fill the empty spaces
In these sheets
And souls.
YOU ARE READING
Two Shades Of Love
PoesieLoves is bitter or sweet.....love is beautiful or ugly.....love is death or life....life is grey or black......
