Blank Sheets


These blank sheets are my friend
They listen with an open arm
they won’t say it’s right or wrong.

To ebb down the storm in me
No conversation will do for me
Words are but too weak to heal.

My thoughts, a torrent of rain
Pouring colors onto the blank sheets
As I write what I wrought
my heart feels overflow.

when words flow into the void
they are no longer a part of me
but something that has past
like the alternation of season.

once again...
these blank sheets,
they are my friend.

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