In Her Nature

These walls I stare at.
Impossible to see past, to see through.

In this silent, empty room.

Nothing but a window,
A world all too familiar to look out to.

If I must bleed to know what is on the other side.
Cut me open.

Let's run dry.

Submerged in obsession of my own developing thoughts.

'Cause this pen,
Is all I allow myself to have.

The Pages That Made You

In blue ink splattered
Across blank, empty pages
You found yourself.

In words, in circles, repeated.

Just with the movement of a hand, there is magic.

You write, you touch, you feel.
You hold another hand within you're own.

And here..you held a pen that found you.