“Her” All these lines. All these words. All these thoughts, scribbled across paper for a girl I do not see. (Not know.) Scribbled in ink, staining the paper.                                     Staining my soul.                                     …But she is—                                     …she is beautiful… She is the way. On the composition notebooks pages before me: Dig deep.                                     Dig deep to the bottom—   and think of her,     to the r