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There's a canvas in front of me. Splashes of black have already stained the majority of it, and words have already seeped through even the smallest of spaces.

The edges are torn, but the tattered corners only add to its value; the beauty coming from where it's been and how much of it has been filled with unrightful marks.

Such a rare piece with no name to blame.

A beautiful masterpiece with no rightful owner.

But that's the way it has to be with this one. Marked by many and owned by no one.

However, just as I think that there's no way to selfishly make it my own, something happens...

I finally figure it out.

There's a price to pay for each mark made: You don't leave a trace behind without it taking a piece of you- twisting it until something you can barely recognize as your own, takes its place.

This canvas makes the same mark on you as you make on it.

And I didn't realize the mistake I had made until it was too late.

I had written my name in the most permanent way possible.

And as I look down at myself now, I don't see its name. I see black ink that slowly creeps around my skin, slowly covering me until I'm unrecognizable.

Its graceful patterns burning deep into the blank canvas I was, until I'm completely filled with lines I'll never be able to trace without following the path of another.

But I know that if I started from the very beginning of the very first line, made on my wrist, it would result in my fingertips tracing his name over and over again until I ended with aching fingers and an ailing mind.

***

I set the pen down.

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A/N: BLACK INK IS NOW #759 IN FAN FICTION!

*CRIES* XX

-M.D.R.

Black Ink || Harlena  a.u.Where stories live. Discover now