Paper Lines

Her name is written across my notebook;
Scribbled long ago,
before the end of what was great,
before we fell apart,
scattered to the corners
because looking at each other's faces
reminded us of her.

Her.
Her name,
hidden between the pages,
next to the Civil War and last minute Chem notes,
finds my eyes
and I hear my breath catch in a sob
before I push it back,
deep into the labyrinth of forgotten thought.

Her name is written across my notebook,
a scar upon my chest I can't quite see
but never seems to heal,
voices, faces, scenes of life and memory
refusing not to play.

And the blood.
Oh the blood and the screech of whining metal,
grinding to a standstill that never seems to end.
And the day keeps restarting,
the same mistakes,
the same missed steps,
and as they lifted her and carried her away,
they promised she'd be okay
just to shut me up.

Her name,
the loopy letters curling over one another
mimicking cursive, the detailed Calligraphy and flow
as she swears loyalty, fealty
forever.

Forever?!

How can forever last when you're not here?
You swore. You promised!
You'd always be there.
You'd never leave.
We'd always bee friends.

Huh, promises.
You lied.

You lied,
they lied.
It's all shit!
And the broken are left to pick up the pieces.

I keep yelling,
crying to the world,
screaming at you in the fight we never had
because you're not here to listen.

Did you here that?
You're
          not
                  here.

Your name is written across my notebook.
It's still here,
just like me.

I close my pages on you slowly,
still not ready to say goodbye.