The words are blurry
Fixed on the page
Like scars
On a lonely kid's arm
This story grows old and
Dampens my heart
It leaks down the core
And through the pages that
I've yet to read
And admire.
I've forgotten to forget
Your name and face
And all of their baby likeness
Though I assert you
They are only ink on paper
For that is all you need to
Write a story or
To ruin me.
Yet I let you spill the ink
Because I enjoy the feel
Of your shoes treading
All over my heart
And what I enjoy the most,
I tell you
Is the somber grayness
That combines with my spirit
And leaves me in the condition
To produce a cliched poem about
How so very empty
You leave me.
