LoveLetter Ink

Ink? Where  has it all gone? I might have spilled it allover his heart when I wrote the last letter and now I can go without because I'll take it back from him and write again.....
  My dearest of dear souls :
  I was your lonely writter who spilled ink over your heart and now instead of red and beautyful I made it blue and ill. I decided to make you fall in love without letting you know who I am or ever see me. Have you ever tried climbing a montain in your own created story so that the peek may greet the sky with a snowy hand? Have the stars painted a miracle over your sleepy white face at night when soft wings touch your sincerity of exploring dreams?... Did you ever see me in any kind or conceptual shape just before I sickened your heart? How could you turn my world upside down with all those existing thoughts which you sent me in a wave of lonelyness?.... I thought I could run out of inspiration but somehow it is you who force me to make your illness harder and harder to bare, sweet creation of universal knowledge, my nightsky cover of invasion, the bleeding rose that greets you in the morning with my fictive smile painted on imaginary paper on which I know it's only me you draw day and night.  Your white noble face with the blue fever of my ink with the venom of love cought in my words with each static second progressively growing making the notion of beauty turn into a magical different dimmension before the break of dawn which kills the night and turns me into fiction.
  I shall never stop drowning your mind in all my feeling and now that the Moon is tired I shall go to my eternal sleep once more....
 Sincerely yours....

I dissappear...
 Wake up dearest, painter in ink and colour by daylight, once more trying to depict my face in a small illustration so that you may draw a great and marvelous picture some day regarding the way you see me in your nightly dreams. You have not succeeded most unfortunately however even if I am unreal I was always one step ahead. I could now write in words what blinding energy sent me to mind... Until the next night that might bring me a new monologue for you better hide all that you paint for you will be accused and I do not want you executed... Oh... if I could only talk clearly maybe you could understand...
See what you have done? The ink that sickened your heart is gone in some abstract painting not in link to me ... now I am left without a signature... it's harder still to write as you didn't keep any more for me by throwing it away from your heart....
  Sweetly you have taken over and the storry is now only a memory of drifting nights  in which I will try constructing more ink from stardust till I shall once again return......