The Notebook

I found an old notebook in my laptop bag.
It was folded in half,
with yellowed page corners
and an ambiguous stain adorning the cover.
Destined for the bin,
I flipped through a few blank pages,
just to make sure I wasn’t chucking away
anything important.
/
Behind a page with poorly scrawled addition algorithms,
I saw a familiar cursive style that made me smile.
I suppose you could say it was
a love letter,
filled with flirty flicks of the pen,
on f’s that are written in all caps.
The other pages were in tatters,
but this one was white and crisp.
/
We’ve been apart for eight months,
but I haven’t looked in this book for twelve.
Maybe it was a lie?
When I said we didn’t love each other anymore,
and you agreed.
I carefully peeled the page, like skin,
from the spine of the notebook
and tossed the rest of faded carcass in the bin.
/
I kept your note,
for three hours.
Until I realised that our relationship
had been just as rotten as the rest of that book.
The occasional pristine page
bound by mildew.
I crumpled your letter in my palm
and inhaled that damp smell for the last time.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9qqa0v/flood_haiku/e8c1462/
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9qsl78/a_very_short_poem/e8cgixt/