Paragraph

I laugh at the ellipsis

That draws a division between two

Once connected points

I read the same sentence

Over and over

Attempting to understand

A hopeless idea

The point keeps going

Back to what it once knew

Silly.

Worthless.

It should be deleted.

Erased.

The writer entices me

With provoked emotions

From a statement that

Seems to stab at my heart

I, the other point,

Strive to move forward down the page,

Progressing farther and farther away,

From the one point that seems to dwell

In past paragraphs, past pages, past ideas,

Making no changes.

I whirl away in my own thoughts

Arguing for what propels me forward

The writer stops his pen

And I am stagnant.

On the page, I linger.

A single point.

A single statement.

Questioning my existence.

The writer writes.

But I am still stopped.

While the other point,

Seems to fall through the pages

Falling out of his own existence

Falling into fears

Of not being understood

Of not making changes.

I glance.

I think.

But I let it all fall away with him.

Through the pages

Into empty space

I carry on.

Is this the end?

The end of the page that I am approaching?

I want so bad for it to be the end

To know that there is a definite decision

To know that the pages will be shaped by my very meaning

But the writer,

Puts three dots after my point has been made.

An ellipsis...

To show the continual progression of a point

The division has turned into a gap between

The two points,

But the writer makes me go on

For what I don’t know,

But I am bound by this ellipsis,

To go beyond what I used to know,

Into a place of temporary solitude...