Girl, sitting in a tree,
writing letters into the bark
she never imagined she'd scrawl:
dp's girlfriend.
Embellishing with a heart,
her pink pen completes the cliche.
No foolish forevers, though.
She only promises the present.
This paper girl, she's perching between branches,
eyes dwelling on the forever sky,
thoughts jumbled and raw,
happiness seeping through the folds
of her flimsy, borrowed body.
Recycled stardust is all she possesses
and she doesn't get to keep it.
Probably wouldn't, if she could.
She lingers longer on forever,
incorrect concept that it is.
Does infinity make right now meaningless?
Or meaningful? She can't tell.
The satisfaction she breathes is foreign.
She'd forgotten how to not want more,
more love, more laughter, more hugs, more kisses.
She doesn't need more now, isn't asking for forever.
For once, she has enough.
