My little notebooks

My little notebooks, 

with lined paper so blue like the sea,

With words of my thoughts upon its pages that have gotten me through so much hardship.

I take my pink, blue and blue bow patterned pencils from off the table near my bed;

Chk! 

The lead pops out, 

I put the pencil on the paper and write about my characters; one on a journey of a lifetime, one the last person on earth, one like me, positivity and depression.

And I then write again, poems of my mind; one about sadness and grief, one about the beauty of life, then war, and oh so much more.

I write in my little notebooks, 

red, 

green, 

yellow, 

blue, 

purple, 

black, 

orange, basically the whole rainbow,

The thoughts pour out of my mind onto the page, azure and colors of the sun, as well as the dark, cold colors of death that fill each and every space.

Write, 

scratch, 

erase, 

write again, 

then erase again, 

then start over.

The words spill onto the paper, whether good or bad, 

dark or light, 

spelled correctly, 

messy, 

not proper punctuation or not, 

My little notebooks give me company and help my thoughts create universes with one 

single 

tap.