his pen danced with the sways
of his finger tips on its waist.
the ink kissed the paper
as it was his,
each inches of ink
that marked its pale skin
told different stories;
from bad to worst
and good to best.
-n.d.
YOU ARE READING
blue | poetry ✓
Poetryhis name is blue. he's color blue. he thinks blue. he feels blue. he's always blue. ©aloeverasie2017
