Hello
Hi.
No, Hello.
Dear, maybe?
Hi, I'll go with hi.
The ink bleeds from the simple letters
H and I
As my thoughts stand up in their seats
Screaming and roaring;
Begging to be made into tangible ideas.
Pleading with my fingers to be permanently expressed
in a way he will be able to understand.
But my fingers don't move.
I stare at the H,
Then I stare at the I.
What next? Should I pour the black filth
Encapsulated in my lungs onto the pure page of white;
Naïve in the same way I was before I met you.
Or claw my nails into the depths of my
Splintered lungs,
Find a piece of my heart that I still have left,
And gently flick it on this plain sheet?
Would that get your attention?
Hi.
No, hello.
I tip my pencil
And erase the word
Along with the possibility
of sentences that I long for you to know
In hopes they will be erased
from my mind as well.