Paper cuts

When we separated
I inherited the equity of sorrow-
a mass of words, I continue to press upon pages
of my writing book

wounds, in which I attempt to heal,
with verse-
etched into the skin of paper;
lyrics of broken dreams, that never fade.

never is my quill parched of ink,
unlike my lips, left dry without your kiss.

A drought lingers in my throat
without the water of our conversations.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

But within the fine lines
of paper, the sweetness of ink squeezes
from bitter, and an equity of loving memories
also, remain

---of what I write.

Like that of a flower preserved between
the leaves of a book;
I try to conserve colourful words
of when love once blossomed

However, I know that petals like love
wilt and fade with time.

but your scent will always leave
its mark within the territory
of my heart forever.