Written in November of 2008, probably late at night. This is another from that time period of my life I am okay with sharing.
Pages
I have yet to count,
How many pages are left,
How many have been tinkered with,
Or how many were blank beforehand.
Because a page is no longer that once it’s been personalized,
It has a spirit branching off of its creator at that point.
A finger print…
Left in ink,
not dripping, sorrowful ink.
But thoughtful.
Calculated.
Primal, pure, and
Trevor's Notepad 