"...I recreate your smile amongst the clouds."
In Ink
By Giovanna Napoleone
A part of me lives on paper.
In ink.
Long sentences that turn into phrases, punctuation marks that turn into metaphors.
I can make a cloud out of your eyes, a sun out of a smile that’s been faded from my memory for a long time.
I’ve never had that, before.
The ink smells like coffee, like home when I’m alone.
I get a warm feeling when I read it, but when I step away from the notebook it’s gone.
I want to recreate my family, put them in a cottage on a meadow where nothing but daisies can touch their skin.
Your skin.
I miss you, so I recreate your smile amongst the clouds.
In ink.
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