Marred. This page can never be the same. I have stolen its virginity. Indelible. I can not be simply wiped away. Overtime my mark will fade but it will never again be pristine. I have written its story. Words to yellow their way across the lines of page and time. Will she choose to preserve them? Such power is mine. To cover. To hold. To caress. To lift and bend her corners. Will I treat her kindly? Carry her with me to the end? A journey not yet completed will take her past my life unless she comes to some untimely end. Were it not for my hand I wonder the path she would have taken. But the life not lived looses breath. It is an abortion of the possibilities. Pre-determined. I steal her free will.
Blank Pages October 3, 2010