Written by Jacob Ibrag
Gliding the surface of the blank page,
she closes her eyes and gets high off
of its emptiness. It’s waiting to be
untapped and broken into. Reaching
for the pen holding her hair bun in
place, she bites off the cap and begins
to alter the white space. Stories slowly
make their way through her veins,
dripping through her fingertips. After
awhile, she feels empty. Taking on the
persona of what the page used to be.
Dry sponge waiting to get wet again.
She will, she loves every part of this.