A Once Loved Letter

Soft and tender words on my now dry and folded pages.

My cracks and crevices filled by the same sweet nothings

That used to fill you.

No longer the picture-perfect sunset autumn night I used to be.

Not a canvas of time lost in crystal blue eyes.

Now you’re the photograph I gaze upon.

I’m black tears of ink smudged against your clear ones

Dried by air of bittered and shadowed glances.

A tack pierces my skin like the arrow in your still-beating heart.

Bound to a wall like his love once tied to you

And an attack it would be to try and unravel.

Maybe one day you’ll forget me enough.

Enough to unpin my tattered-stained pages

And not miss an emptied shadow.

But for now I hang in your private museum, not by invitation.

Among all your greatest treasures and fondest memories.

I once belonged but now I try and be forgotten.

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