I smear the charcoal around on the page
and burrow it down into the white abyss
Just like I do with thoughts of you.
A black streak across a blinding expanse of white.
Start out like chunks of black soot on the end of my fingertips,
And end up a gorgeous chaotic mess.
My swirling clouds of dust and graphite
can’t contain the emotion that was looking for an outlet,
But only found a small hole in a leaky tire driving top speed on the highway
On my way home to get to you.