The paper is so old that it is yellow brown,

And crackles as if it was burnt,

It is still lined with slanted black letters,

Still holds the archive of my emotions,

It holds memories that you can't erase or burn,

Indestructable like I wish I was,

Permanent, like I don't want to be,

Life is all too permanent,

Like the pen scrawling across the page,

Like your name on my skin and heart,

Like the scars, your gift to me,

The only impermanent thing was your love for me.

The End

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