Lines
Lines on blank paper
waiting to be stained
with the ink of
love and devotion,
the thought that they
were absolutely
made for each other,
instead are smeared
with a mess of
infidelity, betrayal,
sweet memories of
what once was
and bitter, discarded dreams
of what
could have been
waiting to be stained
with the ink of
love and devotion,
the thought that they
were absolutely
made for each other,
instead are smeared
with a mess of
infidelity, betrayal,
sweet memories of
what once was
and bitter, discarded dreams
of what
could have been