The absence of you seems stiff and crinkled,
Like a crumpled piece of paper.

Ink blots and words crossed,
Just discarded verses and rhythms sprawled endlessly.

Incomplete maybe in a way,
Because I no longer keep your name on my lips.
Only hidden in sheets of paper.

Can you feel the silence?
Like a discarded notebook.
To full to continue,
Lines fill the margin so it's set aside.

Even words escape me now in this.
Paused on my last verse...