All I
have left of you are love notes from back when
You let the blood in your veins morph into ink.
You would dedicate yourself to transferring each one of
Your thoughts from your brain onto blue-lined paper
Simply for the purpose of painting a smile on my face.
But, I think when you sat down to write the last one,
you ran yourself dry.
Maybe you pressed down too hard and got carried away
and accidentally let your memories and emotions
attach themselves too tightly to your delightful adjectives
Until everything we went through had exited your mind.
Because, as soon as the letter left your hands,
every ounce of compassion drained from your features
and suddenly you looked at me as if I had never kissed your
lips.
Now, no matter how desperately I try to extract the smell
of your skin from the seemingly ancient paper, there’s no
use.
You’re not there anymore.
r.m.
