sixty-five.

it's not yours.

that imaginary eraser you use everytime
to remove that delicate smile that rises on her vibrant face
is now desensitized to her lips and can no longer
be gripped by your papermate pink pearl eraser.

instead, it'll clean the remnants of the sadness
that once was drawn on her lips and make room
for that everlasting Joy she feels within.

her smile is not dictated by the presence of. you.