Give me paper to appease my soul and passion to fill my inkwell,
give me life flushed from living and drained from loving.
Give me pens, of many colors each one a speckle of my essence.
Give me a living canvas, breathing my air and tasting my spirit,
dust it in golden sun rays and ice it in moon beams to
sweeten the hidden depths of sin. Give me crumpled
edges and torn corners, ink blots and strike through’s.
Give me an endless ream with pause breaks for tears
and laughter lines tearing the core. Give me a hb pencil.
Chewed at one end and blunt, let it write my heart with
the smoothest of ease, love spilling through graphite,
lust splitting paper, let desire become the heavy lines
and fear the faint whisper of grey on white. Yes, give me
paper, a canvas, a living body to embody my…
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