Ink by Valerie Parente

when she wears the tiara

Just leave that ink in tears to cry
Let them fall on the blue lines
And create personal marks
That record our beating hearts.

Don’t try too hard to define
All the thoughts that plague your mind
When you turn your conscience off
A list of words becomes art.

Vocabulary describes
What makes chills tickle your spine
Suppressed fears locked in the dark
Motifs hidden in your plot.

The whispers a pen provides
Are emotions summarized
Broken up in royal parts
By a new language monarch.

– Valerie Parente (6-28-17)



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