I've been staring blankly
at the clean canvas
infront waiting to taste
the pitch black ink inside
my pen as I think and think
to jot down the reasons
for me to stay.
Minutes turned into hours
and hours into forever
and still
n o t h i n g.
Until I crampled up
the paper and my tears
landed on the cold cement
as perfect as my priceless paper
landed in the bin.
Wrong love can make
you fool and Im so
guilty right now
that I'm letting myself
to be its slave.
Because I still decided
to stay despite of the truth
of the Inkless Paper.
YOU ARE READING
Constellation
PoetryHere lies the speck of words orbiting in my own galaxy that was once lost but finally found its own constellation.
