No Difference

Erase
Late hours of a day just gone by at a desk
Rainy weather of sunlight under an umbrella lamp
And ink on paper where words should be
But can’t take back, can’t
Erase.

When morning comes natural and good, un-plug
Un-know the advancements of men,
Just taste the darkness for an hour more, all quiet on
The front when dressed all right in inked clothes wet from
Sleepless nights burning bright with ideas,
Lightbulb.

Take whispered words of oak of a desk and weave into
The fabric coarse, so at first touch they kiss the worst,
So they don’t forget, don’t erase
The possibilities of lamp-light nights filtered through paper
And un-erasable ink, the knowing that one is unraveled and lain bare,
Skin full of beauty marks that blemish and blemishes that fade into 
Porcelain or ebony; still gives the same shine from lampshade heat.

What happens in shadows on the walls in the wells of the night,
Inked in by lamp-light so mortal fingers can’t even smudge,
Nor erase.

-Mien