Like a book, read, reread, annotated...
Its essence squeezed out... its purpose served...
dog-eared on some dark forsaken shelf of memory
once-crisp pages tarnished by the dust of forgotten days
promises – weighted down between busyness
and forgetfulness – colourless, their fragrance gone
brittle like flowers pressed between its pages
mouldy, it slowly crumbles under the burden of futility
gasping for a fresh breath to salvage it from sure ruin
We have brought it to this deplorable state
Can we nurse back our relationship to glowing health
or will continued callousness let it breathe its last
once we remove it from the ventilator of pretence?