Marks.

More than just a scribble,
All your words were written in permanent ink.
Simply a piece of beuatiful art,
One framed with so many memories.

Rubbing away at my eyes,
That continue to cry for your need.
No eraser will free the marks,
That I'm left to cover.

One person who made me feel so free,
Now makes me feel locked up inside.
The real me screams for another chance,
A glance back to the drawing board - the past.

Happy.
Love.
One.
Together, you said it would be forever.

Alter the mistakes,
Rub out any wrong.
Surely they could be overwritten,
With the love I have for you.