Ink and Paper

I itch for ink and paper but the words carry thoughts of you.

So how shall these memories fade? When my very instrument of escape leads me to nowhere else but you?

The mind wishes to forget, but how can it? When you remain in everything still.

You're in the sound of the trees, the gentleness of the wind, even in the very light of the moon and stars.

How must I cross this bridge? How must this river pass?

When you remain, even as we're apart.

I itch for ink and paper as much as I still yearn for you.