Inkborn - Paper Souls #2
Inkborn - Paper Souls #2 poetry stories
  61
  •  
  0
  •   10 comments
Share

kgirl
kgirl “In a place where fantasy meets reality”
Autoplay OFF   •   3 months ago
Creatures born from ink and paper are forever bonded to our souls.

Part 2 of my story collection ‘Paper Souls’

Inkborn - Paper Souls #2

Tell me,

Tell me, How come we can dream of monsters and of grim reapers,

Tell me, How come we can dream of monsters and of grim reapers, Of fairies and angels,

Tell me, How come we can dream of monsters and of grim reapers, Of fairies and angels, Of creatures never seen,

If we’re supposed to dream only about things we’ve seen and met in this life?

If we’re supposed to dream only about things we’ve seen and met in this life? Of things we can remember?

That was my first question as, when I wrote down the words on the brand, new notebook, they literally took life.

That was my first question as, when I wrote down the words on the brand, new notebook, they literally took life. The notebook — yeah, it had been a gift.

An unexpected gift. From someone I didn’t even know.

You know, it has been long since I last went out, or saw people I once thought friends. But that’s a story for another time.

I took the notebook.

I took the notebook. I started writing down.

I took the notebook. I started writing down. I didn’t even know what,

I took the notebook. I started writing down. I didn’t even know what, Nor why.

I just knew I needed it, I felt the urge to;

I just knew I needed it, I felt the urge to; It had been so long since I had last had the chance to write down something.

When I was done, I noticed that the words I had written on the notebook were the portrait

When I was done, I noticed that the words I had written on the notebook were the portrait Of a new me,

When I was done, I noticed that the words I had written on the notebook were the portrait Of a new me, Of a perfect me,

When I was done, I noticed that the words I had written on the notebook were the portrait Of a new me, Of a perfect me, Of a flawless me.

Of the person I had always wanted to be.

Of the person I had always wanted to be. Or, maybe, of the friend I had never had.

When I stopped writing, the paper took life on its own.

When I stopped writing, the paper took life on its own. Mixed itself with ink.

When I stopped writing, the paper took life on its own. Mixed itself with ink. A spectacular, rare scene I think I’ll never witness again.

A lovely figure was standing in front of me in my room.

It wasn’t me and my loneliness together - or alone - anymore.

There was another person filling the empty space in the room I could have never been able to fill up on my own.

There was another person filling the empty space in the room I could have never been able to fill up on my own. And it was the same person I had written about in the notebook.

‘You’re a fairy kind of beauty,'

‘You’re a fairy kind of beauty,’ I spoke the words in amazement, without even thinking.

When was the last time I had seen something so graceful?

When was the last time I had seen something so graceful? I couldn’t even recall that.

When was the last time I had seen something so graceful? I couldn’t even recall that. I couldn’t.

But there she was, standing right in front of me,

A fascinating woman, her skin the same color as the notebook paper, her eyes mesmerizing and sweet, her hair fair.

A fascinating woman, her skin the same color as the notebook paper, her eyes mesmerizing and sweet, her hair fair. A dream.

A fascinating woman, her skin the same color as the notebook paper, her eyes mesmerizing and sweet, her hair fair. A dream. Or, more precisely, a creature born from ink.

A fascinating woman, her skin the same color as the notebook paper, her eyes mesmerizing and sweet, her hair fair. A dream. Or, more precisely, a creature born from ink. From fantasy.

A fascinating woman, her skin the same color as the notebook paper, her eyes mesmerizing and sweet, her hair fair. A dream. Or, more precisely, a creature born from ink. From fantasy. My fantasy.

A creature born from my mind and my pen.

A creature born from my mind and my pen. My creature.

Stories We Think You'll Love 💕

Get The App

App Store
COMMENTS (10)
SHOUTOUTS (0)