ONLY THE PAPER

I have only the paper left by you, each line for line
in that perfect script your known for,  every word
so precise thought-out, telling, still, what could be
said, the damage now done, I was left unprepared to
have this note-from you-and like that; gone, all the
possibilities unfulfilled, the good, the sweet-the
what could have been's, your note left for me to read
in that  cursive font, so recognizable, right away, in your
do it that way style, just so you, prepared in ink, already
beginning to dry, your words blur, while I read each one
bleeding through  blue as the words , are lost I cry, watching  
as your perfection stated in cursive disappears, right before my eyes

by Michael Perry