Scrawled between light blue lines,
between light pink lies,
but he didn't know at the time
and neither did I

So he promised and he swooned,
writing as if forever was assumed
Now only paper remains from the wound,
a souvenir from before love was doomed

Handwriting harder now to decipher
describes my past, how he loved her,
and a future we swore would be easier,
a future always together

Long enough ago not to cry
but the inside jokes I still recognize
And now I wonder if I had tried
Would finding these have made me smile?

Faded pages and smudged pencil,
pages hard for him to fill
but I didn't have the will
to try to love him still