Silently I sit, staring at one of many blank pages in my notebook,
Pages of unwritten deaths and losses
Pages of unseen wonder and happiness
Of mystery
Of emptiness…

Silently I sit, writing in one of the many blank pages of my notebook,
Pages full of poetry and dreams
Pages full of wishings and giving up
Of memories in the dark smoking my last cigarette,
Of times when I had no one else to turn to, and no one to listen either.

Silently I stand up; I put the pen down whose ink is still wet on the page in my notebook,
No longer is it one of the many blank pages in my notebook, it is now joined the ranks of the written..
Pages full of poetry and dreams
Pages full of wishings and giving up
Of memories in the dark putting out that cigarette
Of times when I turned to no one from fear they wouldn’t understand…

Silently as the tears rush out of my eyes I burn the notebook…
With its empty pages,
With its full ink stained, penciled in pages.
I save one page though; its ink is still wet and has now smeared in some places,
Now, I walk away from the burning notebook with a still burning cigarette in my hand alone in the dark,
I walk away from my past
My present
My potential future,
Into the dark of the night
My face covered in shadows
Moonlight blanketing my shoulders

I walk away from it all
Into the dark,
Into the night,
I walk…

The silent quiet darkness…