Just Ink.

My thoughts danced around my fingers
Itching to be laid down on a blank
So that I got confused by it all
And my pen spat out my annoyance
My thoughts were up and down, drowning my fingers
But my inspiration didnt have a tag
The ink, a companion
And the blank, a friend at a time when these souls didn’t know what to say
Those cracks I had to seal but all I had was ink
Pretty wept and pretty bled
For the handsome stranger had finished his painting
And dared to look back at it and smile
The canvas of her heart was smeared by those brave brushes
One by one, stroke after stroke
I watched on as pretty bled
And my pen carved hurtful words against the stranger
Every shade on the canvas, he painted
And every corner of the canvas, he sprayed a paint
Whistling as though it were a beautiful painting, to him it was
His lips would curve with every stroke and pretty bled even more
All the misery the ink could not lay down
I kept on looking but all I had was ink
My heart with pity but all I had was ink, just ink
Pretty picked up her canvas and went under the rain
But the rain could not wash it all off
Pretty went to the ocean
But it waved off her plight as though it were nothing of concern
And so pretty stole a brush and smeared white all over the canvas
No more did a teardrop lick from her fountain
And no pain hit her nerves again.
                              – By Ruth C. Odikaesieme


9 thoughts on “Just Ink.

  1. Beautifu words from a beautiful heart . My miss church girl Ruth u are now on another level but are u show no highness involve ?


  2. The imagery of painting that tells the painter’s emotions and soul. If it is pain the rain can not wash it away unless the painter himself with a white wash. Haha

    “you are the owner of your own happiness”…great lesson


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