Some Venting and A Sip of Lemon Tea.

This blank page.
It's the only thing that is always here, always waiting on me.
The only thing that lets me reconstruct, edit, and complete it.
It's the only thing that listens to me constantly.
The only thing that is considerate enough to stay.
I belittle it constantly, always erasing and modifying.
It's never perfect enough-and yet; it stays.
It's so bland but speaks so much.
I'm so used to disappointment.
But this white page has stayed.
Thank you bland, ugly, white page.