it can never be taken back into me
inked forever on an atom
though the paper be destroyed
carved into space and time
etched into yours and my
Not just a memory anymore, drunk with our ears,
But a Photograph of the words that should have only been said
And then denied
And pushed aside
By our common sense
A fixed point, to hinge ourselves on,
A chemical change in the world's timeline,
A pen-stroke noose to hang ourselves on,
Or a place to load our joy.
So before the words are written, before they have bitten the paper,
And then have the strength to stay.
Or walk away.