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“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 write,

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

With tears

Was my quill that day. Not full of the ink of her fur

Or the lemon of her eyes.


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