The dirt is collecting in the creases of empty pages Obscuring the words, my own, not worth reading Spat onto yellow notebook paper, ugly handwriting Burnt alive in her shell, devoted & destroyed by her faith Lovingly left to the dogs Carelessly spent like every paycheck you've ever earned Wasted on the cheapness of mass produced poison Half gone before we began, gone before we knew better Our transience mistaken for permanence, out of ignorance My belated "I love you" to late to matter much Just words by the time they're spoken, empty as her promises The sun still shines & the grass still dries, but the silence has abandoned us Predicting that quietness, absorbing sterile noise Put down the pen, crumple the page, writing about it never changed a thing