Two plane faces with too plain of faces.
They all fall flat. They all collapse.
So come back in two-fold when you know my edge…
Recycling brittle paper so tired from the pleats
of, what he claimed was love, is now a bitter defeat.
The trouble was never the knowledge of departing
but the subtle fear and threat of tearing:
                   tearing any memory scribed against his skin.
                   tearing for the moments as they left the pen.
Now I know how stationary lives.
I regret writing a love note to him.
I still have 500 drafts
and 499 more things to say.
I swear this is my last
of my 1,000 cranes.
I offered 1,000 kisses
but that wasn’t enough.
I guess I was too ambitions
in thinking origami wasn’t tough.


About Robyn

"If you haven't known insanity, you haven't lived."
This entry was posted in Love, Love, Life and Other Trivial Pursuits, My Favourites, Recovery (USA) and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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