Epilepsis Romance

I remember the night I spilled between your binding.

I remember the way I liquified and








I don't know if I was ink to add to your tale or water to destroy your efforts,

but I remained just the same.

I like to think that you found comfort in my placement on your parchement

or in the way my calligraphy mingled with your Times New Roman narrative.

I like to think that beginning at page 2 and ending up at page 54 meant that you wanted me to stay.

Was I a prologue, a plot, an epilogue perhaps?

Did I question your what's and who's with enough why's and when's to make me dynamic?

Did my straight lines patiently hover your dots in a way that made you anticpate our dialogue?

I wish I could say that I have all of the writing prompt answers,

but this is your story,

not mine.

If anything at all we are a mix-matched pattern of fonts appraoching an epilepsis


we may be out of pages, but maybe we are not.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741