Blue Ink Pen

Mirror me, mirror me
Press on the glass
Mouth me the words
And I’ll relay them back

Lean in close
So I know

Practice appearance
But grade on intent
Circle back on itself
To explain what it meant

There’s a verse in the margin
Still wet from your blue ink pen

They're just stains on the paper

Pressed down so gently
Like firstborns in the river
Hands soft and patient
Like feathers in the quivеr

Try to append yourself
But therе is nothing you have left to say
Never have to be alone
As long as you are in your own way

I’m gonna trace over each letter you wrote
Ship it off to your empty postal code
So it’ll return to sender, one day