Partially found in an old notebook in which I wrote in the days leading up to and including May 9th 2015 to May 20th 2015, the dates during which I enjoyed my first ever trip to Paris. Partially written today as inspiration struck, February 7th, 2019.


It’s not ink

When I put a pen to paper and write

It’s blood and sweat

Salt water that escapes out the corners of my eyes

and falls to the page before I can catch it


It’s not ink

that shapes words on paper into worlds

strung together

Adventures in your head, it’s not ink you read

It’s hope and heart and imagination


It’s me.