Darkened smudges of eraser beneath worn pencil
once, twice,
–three drafts
sleeping in the bin.
I keep rewriting the sentence
where I tell you what happened,
each version quieter
–than the one before.
I’m fading
into the margins.
nothing sounds the same
as it did
the first time.
The page goes fluorescent,
bleeding too brightly–
–seeping into margins.
Ego uncaps another marker,
scribbles in rainbows
until I’m blinded, drowned
in bright.
who doesn’t love
a rainbow?
He never
erased graphite–
just shrunk it
–too small to read.
Photography by: james chan on Unsplash
