Ink Drop

Write me a letter, a poem, or a song.

Tell me how you feel and the way that you think it.

Will its contents be of love or longing?

Lost opportunity or found truth?

Sing to me in your words so that I will know

where your mind is, and if your mind forms

thoughts of me and about us.

When your pen flows to tell your story

will it find it’s way to me?

Where does this story you tell me start –

how will it end?

Will I appear in the final chapter or

will I form a piece of the middle – the thickest

part of the plot –

a build up to an explosive climax?

This story that we move through; yet unnamed.

I wait to hear the version of the author,

like the way two lovers long to touch between each minute.

Will you name each chapter or simply assign them a number –

to keep count of how your love for me started small, then

grew and climbed to higher peaks?

Will I successfully climb your mountain?

Line by line; verse by verse; chapter by chapter:

tell me your life and tell me your love.

Expose yourself to me; vulnerable to the touch

like fresh ink on the page.

I won’t wipe you away.

I smear your touch unto me.

A permanent mark stains my skin

and forever stamps the page.

It is the story of our love.

This is my ballad to you.