ink spills...
Ink spills from the tip of my pen as I gently scratch it against paper. I re-live the memory of that night. The night I lost my best friend, my hero. I try to stay focused on writting the letters in order to form the emotion that I was feeling. Voices swirl around me, conversations are in full swing, but it is just sounds to me.
I look up every once and a while to see if I'm the only one left in the smoke filled room. No, everyone is still there. I hear my name come up a few times, all of them an attempt to tear me from my notebook. Voices trying to pry their way into my train of thought. I am filling the lines with letters, then words, then sentences, which all grow into the story of what happened.
I'm writing it, to put it into an envelope, drop it in a mailbox, and have it sent to the state where everything is bigger. I'm writing it to him. He has no idea about that night. He just knows that someone of great importance is missing in my life. For almost 2 years now he's been gone. I decide to tell him the events leading up to his departure.
I look up, and see people's eyes on me. I just look back down at the ink filled pages in front of me, and continue to describe how the sterile smell crept into my nostrils, and I gagged on the vomit slowly rising from my stomach that was turning...
Ink Spills, who knows what it will say. What it will mean. Depends on the person, the mood, the situation...
The ink I spilled that night, described the biggest hole in my heart. It described how that hole was ripped into my heart, and the tears that fill it....
ink spills.... what will yours say?