Ink and Obsession

If only I could write as I think;

With an obsession,

Relentlessly,

Driven by an insatiable hunger.

I would write until breath became elusive,

Until words spun me into the depths of madness. 

Pages would unfurl like tendrils, reaching into the void,

Into the abyss where thoughts dissolve. 

And I would write of you,  

Far more than I ever should.

I would paint my soul across the canvas of words,

Bleeding ink to capture every fleeting emotion,

Tangled in the web of my own creation,  

Where silence speaks louder than the noise of my mind.

And in those quiet moments,

I would find you,

In every line, in every pause,

A haunting presence, a whisper I can never escape.