it has been written since the beginning of time
and even i do so now
poems and lines pledging
unrequited and everlasting
the many ghosts of love appear on some page
brush it away i say
with those erasing bits
and sweep it aside with your hand
draw a line through it
crumple the page
and throw it away
scratch out the letters
one by one
for such a word belongs
not for the eyes alone
(if it must be written and seen)
may it be written
upon your paper heart