Poem: Ink

IMG_6188Ink by Brin Raizulli Isaac

The smell of ink is slowly intoxicating me
Due to hours and hours of writing things about you.
And for once, I did not cease to do it
because I loved what I was doing.

There were those times at school where
I would awkwardly sit on the bench st dismissal
and I would do it everyday because my friends are away
then I would be mostly greeted by ignorance and I got used to it.

My only choice was to face my notebook
and as I slowly dissipate from the real world,
I enter this white void where I can make my own universe
where I am the creator of all.

And again, I wasn’t satisfied because the ink
hasn’t intoxicated me because you weren’t there.
I lnow that this one I’m making isn’t reality.
But come hither,

I know someday you will.

—-
If you want to copy this poem, please inform me in the comments.

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