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Saturday, July 19, 2008


Ours was/is a notebook paper romance, held close between the lines and under the stars.
We were/are creased and folded in phases, worn with sleep and washing and fire lit places.
I was/am more likely to scribble out mistakes, while yours continue to creep shyly along the page (they are less noticeable that way).
You had/have the most beautiful brown eyes to read my words, stumbling blindly just to be heard.
I was/am not sure of anything- so for now, despite everything, I will fold us up and put it away.
Someday, I will reply.

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