Am I a mere word in your complex web
of amassed sentences?
If the roles were reversed,
if you were mine,
you would be the dog-eared page
which I'd admire the most.
You would be the string of words
I'd keep on repeating on my head
like a broken record.

But somehow,
despite being the phrase
I hold in highest regard -
you, too, were the phrase
which I could not grasp
in the end.

You became incomprehensible;
you started making less sense
in my mind,
until I could no longer understand.

--
-
And now the ink runs out of
the proverbial pen.
The tips of my fingers
are permanently stained black and blue
And I mouth the prose you left
on my lips
as I watch you leave
the world we made
for just us two.