Ink.
Graphite.
The words I write appear
Dark on the page.
Dark.
I reach deep inside and
Drag out the feelings.
Deep.
Because only deep down will I find
The emotions that match my pen.
Deep in the darkness of my heart,
Where shadows paint everything black.

Black and blue.
Like the bruises and wounds that,
Mixed together, create the pigment of my heart.
Mixed.
Swirled together to create a confusing kaleidoscope of chaos.

Light.
One little ray.
Reflections on the bits and pieces of my chaotic swirl.
And each bounces the shine to another.
Shine.
All the shards of shattered glass glisten.
The blend of chaotic emotions emerges
From beneath the paintbrush of the shadows.
Painted.
The black and blue rapidly fade under a coat of white.
And the white becomes a clean background for a new design.

Creation.
A masterpiece is painted over the white-washed remains of my heart.
And it’s not my hand that holds the tool now.
No more ink.
No more graphite.
This is a new creation.