in,  inscribing memories
of better times,
i am, overwriting the grief
of a life unravelling.

the ink placed so carefully
on parchment paper,
dissolves into
a watercolour of a greys
and dismal days.

worlds of love, become mere
twigs and bird scratchings.
floating in the fugue
of  monumental despair.

i look hard and long
to find some meaning.
but see only these words
passionately written,
gleaming.

it's not fair, it's not fair.

as my tears drizzle off the page.