I hate this ribbon

Which holds this book in my hands together

Part of me wishes it would just fall apart

Loosen and leak out all my dreams

I’m alone in the dark

I feel the crackling papers

Yellow with age and with a deep musty smell

That seems to make the words within

More important

I could let it all fall away

Instead, they are my lifeline to the past

And, can’t I hold on to them

Just a little longer

NO

Because, really

They’re already gone.