“Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”
-Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland
“Because they both have quills dipped in ink”
-Marissa Meyer, Heartless
When I dip my quill in ink,
To spread black runes winging across the page
Like black ravens winging across the sky
I do not write of ravens. I write of a raven-eater.
The first time
My quill took on the color of her fur
I wrote of cliches: of love and laughs and life;
Of things I took for granted. The last time,
(excepting the current moment)
Again I wrote
Of things I took for granted; they were gone.
She was gone.
The ink of that day came not from the quills of a raven:
The raven-eater had not eaten any ravens
For quite some time. Sick
Was my quill that day. Not full of the ink of her fur
Or the lemon of her eyes.