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I've written all the words, in a one stationary note. I tried not to speak about you but i ended up spelling your name out of the metaphors i've scribbled down
again and again.
I held back my tears however they always stain the pages of the poem you gave me as your gift. The papers always knew that I would write about you - no matter how I force myself not to. I imagine them facepalming but the pity they is very evident that mismatched the surface.
again and again
i wish i could let go, like how you break free from the grasp of my love-
