Tearing Paper


Scraps of dreams

and torn hours.

Pieces of paper

in the air.

I woke

to the sound of you

tearing pages.

Promises and prayers.

Love letters,

bits of poetry,

and plans,

fed into the flames

by your hand.

No tears.

No sighs.

Only a certain


on your face,

as you went page to page.

In the short moments

that I watched you,

you had fed


to the fire.

Childhood stories,

diary memories,

newspaper cuttings,

wedding vows.

They all burned brightly

as they floated in the air,

then hit the ground.

Wet ash.


A stain upon your foot.

A past,

now marked in the dark

with soot.

For a moment,

I thought to ask you

if you were trapped

by memories?

A recurring nightmare

you didn’t wish to see.

Then, I realized

that with each page

you fed

into the flames

your eyes got lighter.

You were setting

yourself free.



DJR – 2023

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