Ink

I fell in love with the ink as it dragged across the paper to write the words you couldn’t say. Jealous of the pen that was held so tightly as you affectionately described the passion you couldn’t release. Or find. In love with the words freshly pressed and organized between the flaps of the bound pages. And then, it was you

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About k1nd3r5t3w

Born and raised in Maine. US Army Veteran, living in Kansas! Love road trips and my son. Go PATRIOTS. Amateur writer who just writes from the heart. Runner.
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