drowned in pools of ink

ink flowed, ink cascaded, ink dripped upon her skin

from waterfalls of epic poems cried by writer’s dreams.

she washed herself in that black pool of fairy tales.

that river of creative thieves.

washed herself with psalms of princes, lore of lowdy wizards and evil queens.

her skin turned black, turned obsidian and thick

with glossy moral metaphors like the deepest darkest sea.

her eyes could see the world,

not ours or hers but all the worlds exisitng in the artist’s dream.

she could swim in infinite galaxies filled with fantasies.

she could touch scales of dragons, hear the whispers of kings,

the soft kisses of knights who conquered kingdoms,

who rode on handsome steeds.

and those words which bathed her skin,

that warmed her limb to limb,

she could not dry away or forget,

or rub that luscious ink from her soft dark hair.

so instead, she just closed her eyes and smiled;

jumped into that pool, and drowned.

#ilijasekulovski #writer #poem #fantasy #fairytale #ink #writersink #poetry #literart @ilijasekulovski