Pale like paper
Quiet as death
Whispering words
Beneath your breath
Willowy hands
Blackened with ink
That fidget and fumble
As you think
Walk and wander late at night
Pondering everything in sight
Revel in dark and shrink from light
Truly a strange and frightening sight
Speak like a poet
But cold as frost
Mourning the hours
Of pieces lost
Eyes dark from
A recent all nighter
Speak volumes of those
With the title of writer
YOU ARE READING
Flickers
RandomA bundle of blurbs. (from my pinterest comments) Vote for which to expand into full stories
