Paper-cuts

The say love dies slowly
Wilting like an untended plant
--else it dies quickly like a love poem
Thrown unread into the grate.

Nothing solid but the pounding between ears
The spilled ink and scattered pens
I pretend I can’t feel them beneath my feet
Every post-it note a sentiment that once was.

These days even the good news has barbs
That cut and dig into fingertips
As they tear open the envelopes
Addressed now to only one--not both.

Paper-cuts
Little agonies
As day by day without me knowing
You removed me from your life.