You are only words
On a page.
Many if honest.
Written in my hand
By me.
Yet much more than you.
Than you'll ever be.
Or ever have.
These, words on pages
They are heavy.
Such weight, foolishly waiting.
All I have ever had
To feel that I had known you.
I wrote. I read.
Only words on pages.
Used to affirm my misery
And to believe
As proof, reason for my wants
parts buried inside
those that doubted
anyone that was there
if I ever really knew you.
so many words,
you
only pages
Tear them to confetti.
Maybe...
One day.