I made a mistake,
and I thought you were a blank page.
I wanted to let my ink drip all over you.

I wanted to write my story on your skin-
for others to see and so you would
never forget.

But soon it became apparent that the space was taken.
Every inch of your body covered in words,
dried ink that I can never hope to erase.

I read the words etched onto your arms,
and I saw that they were written in your handwriting,
from your sharpest pen.
At that moment, I knew that I could never hope to understand.

Then I came to a horrifying realization.
I am the blank page,
and your pen is bleeding, seeping into me.

joe c.

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blank-page-15/