Blank Page

There is a blank page in front of me. I'm not sure what to do with it. I think there is so much I want to say. I'm not sure where to start. I might tell you the contents of my head. But what about that inside talk, the one in my mind, where I talk to myself. If you want a glimpse of what transpires in my own thoughts, here it is:"I'm gonna love you, like I'm gonna lose you..." I can't get that song out of my head. It's raining but nothing to write home about, just simple rain. The kind that depresses you instead of making you nostalgic. I don't need water to depress me, I'm fine on my own. I wonder sometimes about the color purple, like that color of the sweater lying on my dresser. They made a movie about the color purple. My dad said they called it that because black people kind of look purple when you look close at their skin. I told him to never say that out loud again. Keep it in your head dad. Then there was that song, purple rain. What the fuck is purple rain? It sounds really pretty, I'll tell you that much.I wonder sometimes about the color purple, like that color of the sweater lying on my dresser. They made a movie about the color purple. My dad said they called it that because black people kind of look purple when you look close at their skin. I told him to never say that out loud again. Keep it in your head dad. Then there was that song, purple rain. What the fuck is purple rain? It sounds really pretty, I'll tell you that much.The books on my coffee table are not good enough..I can't read, I can only see. I see a car across the lawn and a cat, my friend's cat is purring for me to hold her and I'm too cold. My heart is black. Not purple, black.You see I get into trouble when I mention what is or is not really in my heart. What is  And when I notice there might not be a single thing in there, in this old heart of mine. It is like a blank page. I have bought books with blank pages, blank pages I am supposed to fill.