paper- blank- meet inks
and transforms
into a story, a verse, a legal note
for better or for worse
when paper falls for ink, the ink changes it forever
(but this isn’t a poem on toxic or healthy romance
or on how we are shaped by the company we keep-
which is shaped by what we can live with)
when paper falls for ink, the ink changes it forever
Ibsen touched on that in A Doll’s House
but he mentioned something bigger
humans aren’t blank sheet waiting to be filled,
like paper we have texture, we have creases, we too shape the story
but be not paper,
for paper can be molded much by ink today then ink by paper
(or so the majority of the cases remain)
nor do we wish to be ink, overpowering
no. no. no.
we wish for love, gentle, steadfast,
a work in progress that molds itself to you and you mold to it,
growing healthily
(why am I giving gyaan in poetry?)
so what are we if neither paper nor ink?
maybe instead, we are a character in a larger story,
simply growing-
but this time, the OC is self-aware-
taking the author’s challenges and molding their own love story.
Author’s Note: Hey there, thanks for reading and hopefully my uneducated opinions and thoughts on life gave you food for thought. If you like my work, you can read more of it on my Substack, or in my published works, the latest of which is The Bard’s Tales, a collection of poems on love, longing, and more.