Paper and Ink

She lived in a world of paper and ink.
There was nothing out there but the words in her head and the stories in her heart.
The past left paper cuts that hurt when she stretched herself too far from where she began.
But the ink of new stories being printed across her skin held her together.
Sometimes when she cried, the stories on her skin got muddled together.
But the sun would come out, and dry the stains, and leave a pretty new design to inspire her.
It was black and white for her,
but things were more beautiful that way.
The purity was more bright, and the hurt was a more achingly intense black.
She liked the polar extremity and the look of stains on the possibility of life.
She lived in a world of paper and ink and the stories kept her company when the people left.