Random Rumination

0| My ink

I write my words in ink.
Trying to leave behind the thoughts that I always set aside.
Merely hoping to be remembered.

I like it.
Maybe it's because my words look better on paper.
Or because my lips fail to utter my words.

When I go through storms I find my journal laying aside.
Calling my name. Shouting.
Telling me to come closer and spill my tea.
To write down my thoughts and feels

All I know is that paper gives my words hugs.
Warm, tight, comforting hugs.
And always calls them beautiful.