I have this note.
A little note
on yellow paper,
with a young man's signature.
I keep this note.

I have this note.
A blank note.
Yes, there are words.
But they are empty.
Nothing from the heart expressed.
Over and over, I read this note.

I have this note.
The only note.
A single lasting artifact
of a romance gone by.
Yet still, the note survives.

I have this note.
A damaged note.
Ripped in two;
like me from you.
I keep the pieces of this note.

I have this note.
A months-old note.
Scribbled, signed & torn; mine.
A cold reminder of harder times.
But I cannot come to trash this note.