Paper

To those selling love in paper postcards with bow tie,
those papercuts run deep into the soul. One rides on the thought of the paper plane, crumbled on the hit of a storm. Those paper boats we made, in our thoughts, we sailed the world. Now there are shredded pieces,
much like us, with no coherent words. A paper asking for validation,
a paper demanded separation. A proof of life,
another of death.

Words apparently meant nothing unless on paper.
The papers were always greener on the other side,
the one you left, your goodbyes on a letter,
burn into ashes, all those memories, all your papers.