It’s just a piece of paper,

upon which the ink now stands.

Strokes and simple letters,

now words that are something grand.

Lines and creases cross its surface,

making it look worn and old.

My mind goes back and forth,

to fold or not to fold?

Scattered stains upon it’s face,

make it look hastily done.

Scratched words, half-finished lines;

completing it wouldn’t be fun.

It’s just a piece of paper,

that’s all that you may see.

Can you see the, ‘I love you’?

Can you write, ‘You love me’?

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Disclaimer: I do not own the imagery used in this blog post and have no artistic claim to it.

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