What Was 

The pages 

have started

to collect dust

around the corners 

I try

to make out I 

can’t see it 

That dust 

it’s screaming 

at me

That dust 

 it’s reminding 

me of

who I should be

and who I am not 

That dust 

That dust

clinging to the

page corners 

Ash melting into

the memory

of what was. 

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