Paper Planes

Bright Blue Ink

I'm a page, or two, full of writing.

18 years of my life have contributed to these full pages.

Every single year, adding words, adding memories.

It was so full already.

But you, like an eraser, came along.

You erased a big spot on the corner of these pages that are made up of me.

You erased the small, the important, even the already forgotten.

And then you wrote in the space, you wrote of yourself.

You filled it more, and you're still filling it. Line to line, word to word.

Everything before you, seems so small now.

How?

When before it all seemed so big?

Now, all you write, is what sticks out.

It's like everything before you, was written in gray pencil, and you wrote in bright blue ink.