You write in cursive...

MY hand flows along with your thin tip

green, blue, red, black

All these colors and yet, it just looks ordinary

Straight, squiggles, bubbles, squares, or lines

Ha, but yet, they are just squiggles to me

write to me, I beg you

because I can't become just paper without you

"Oh can I have some paper?" or

"Oh, can I use that piece of tree?"

But could you ever imagine ink on a tree?

Weird combination huh?

Well, isn't it all signs of life or relationships odd?

But why are we destined to be together when we are

so different?

But don't ask me blue.

Blue as the skies...

Me

White, brown, green, red, orange, black...

You still complete my page and fill in my lines