Paper

A white piece of paper ,

The grain rough under my fingers,

Ready to gain

The marks of our importance

For half of them to be erased 

I tried to get them back, 

You tried too,

Where is the control z

My edit undo

For this eraser

That smudged lines

and turned this paper to grey 

 

I want to make my mind a film

A projector in a way

So you can sit and watch 

All the things we did that day

And the next.

 

We walk and retrace our steps

The same spaces we’ve passed many times

Trying to find old footprints 

that have been washed by the tide

A trace of where we stood 

These memories now stories to you

Cleaned from your mind 

 

Put away the disinfectant

Take away the cloth

Drop the polish in your hands

These marks don’t need to be buffed

Fingerprints should linger 

Imprinted on this paper

I see it on your face

The hurt you feel

I am coming to terms with

something I can’t heal

I want a code

A trigger to recompute

Don’t empty the bin

Find the resort button

 

And after all this

I will try and recreate 

draw the images 

Using charcoal 

my hands

Over the grey smudges

On this white piece of paper

 

Anonymous