You’re not a character in my story, you are my story.
Pen, ink, and paper.
Hands moving through blank space,
Filling it with marks and figures.
Your features are soaked in these sheets,
They fill in space.
Now tell me,
If you didn’t exist what will become of these things?
Paper, ink, and pen?
Figures, marks, and space?
You are important.
You are beautiful.
An image to behold.
A piece to be adorned.
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