Pen and paper, you draw lives a century later.
Scratched edges in silver ink, your letters blink.
Drop of apricot juice spilled, the sentences lie in guilt.
Another sheet, I hold my old quilt.
Hearts and souls, you engrave drizzles.
Painting the red of the walls, unavoidable fizzles.
Delight in the sound of rhythm and beats,
but all I could see is unforgivable scribbles.
© 2011 Broken Sparkles