Rip

on opposite sides of the world
in the same room
every moment not spent thinking of you
is a moment saved
for the rest of my life

knowing barely nothing good can come
out of this half-desired, half-despised
feeling
trying to quit like a smoker
but the nicotine patches don't work like they should
when you reappear

the sheet of paper in your hands
used, yet clean
necessary, yet disposable
how important is that sheet in your life
tell me please

when the corners bend
or the surface is wrinkled
i'm resilient, silent, patient
waiting to see
if and
when
the sheet in your hands


rips