Monday, April 4, 2011

A Different Voice

Paint flows across the page.
expressing words she cannot say.
It splashes her thoughts in their faces,
dots of ideas they could never understand.
It traces its way down the page,
 caressing the paper like a lover who understands.
She cannot speak.
But her paints do it for her.
Today they are screaming what she’s aching to say.

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