What can YOU say in six sentences?
So now to show up at the page, the brand new page, the empty, blank, unmarred, pristine page, with only words to dribble, poor words, in one language, monochromatic ink pooling and spooling--just chicken scratches on the white field.
Until you come along, and you want to know-- you want to see, make sense and story and even sound of the simple efforts on the now spoiled page.
Your kind eyes give meaning to the chains that lie now down, no longer twisting through me, but untangled because you are the unwitting detective exposing them; someone taught you letters at five.
You read color into the world for me.
And I, I cannot stay, for that page is soiled, over, done, no longer mine--applauded, lauded, medallion-ed, and there is no room for me there.
So I, I turn the page, turn the page and ache, ache with its bright white.