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to write is to see my thoughts in front of me
it helps me think maybe i'm not crazy
and that i'm not broken
and i'm a real person that loves.

words that slip through my fingertips comfort me
make me feel in control 
and bring me to a black and white imaginary dream
of whatever i want it to be
--it can be my secret.

i'll give the page my own color
in my mind i see blue and red and yellow
ink blots and paint splatters
and i don't hold me inside,
but i don't share too much, either

i only wish the words could respond
fix all my curiosities and questions
if only it could answer me
and write back to me on the page
to which i spill my soul