Photo by Skyla Design on Unsplash

I Adore the Sound of Paper

I adore the sound of paper

Crinkled paper that makes a brilliant sound

The sound of emptiness before creation

The blank canvas, with one hand tied

The anticipation of words that are like fragrances

The feeling of music, before writing

The roots of roses, tied to thirst

That is a neurochemical of writing

I adore the sound of my keyboard tapping

Even as my sleight fingers don’t know what comes next —

I adore the sound of myself

With my heartbeat, a narcissism of words

Because my loneliness is trapped here

I live in a world of paper and dust

I feel the world of silence’s shore

I am the music before the poetry begins

That’s me, I am a source.

I love the sound of paper hitting the bin

Except there is no such thing as throw-aways for me

Everything is accepted, compared, selected and reduced

Those paper days are over

No imposter-syndrome or inner critic here

Just mirth and moist music

Just song and fragrances alluring

Just the racing need to express

The false and the true are both words that matter.