A fake and faded exterior moving through

Plastered smiles and distant greetings. Stiff

Indifference masked by a golden façade,

A rigid pathway that fades with every footstep.

A world of bleached blacks and stained whites,

Not just a spectrum of gray but a spectrum

Of invisibility, of secrets, of deceit.

 

Spoken words are unheard, they dissipate

Like fickle seeds blowing in the wind,

And settle word by word across the trampled Earth.

 

But in the seeming confines of a page there

Is only black and white- the ink that fills the

Page with scribbled letters and the spaces between

Words, the voids and gaps in a looped letter. 

 

A pen marks its words into paper, like the

Scars of scorned lover’s initials in a dying oak tree.

A final and blissful permanence. A pen and its ink

Can shadow your darkness, can share the

Weight of your burdens. Hidden in the loops and

Spaces of the words scribbled across a page there is

Exposure, honesty, fear, heaviness. The power of the

Written word is seemingly confining but inevitably

Simplistic where vulnerability and honesty transcend

The boundaries of time, where imagination

Drives the horrid dance, and where truth controls deceit.