White Pages

It's something different.
Yet at the same time, so familiar.
A page full of words written in white.
I can tell they exist, but what do they say?
Are they words of love?
Sweet nothings meant only for one.
Are they words of anger?
Burning oaths of vengeance and pain.
Are they words of desire?
Passionate dreams of a wistful soul.
Are they words of secrets?
Things meant to be tucked away.
Perhaps they are all of those things.
Reflections of all things seen and heard.
Everyday, I find more white pages.
Perhaps it's time to find new ink.