Did you know that, when you wrote me, I was made of papercuts

That I was ink and glue and wax but mostly, I was papercuts

Did you know that, when you read me, I am made of memories

I may be adjective or noun but to you I am memories

When you picture me I seem to phase and merge and dissipate

I may be sharp or hard or true but then I mist and dissipate

Did you know that once you close the book I go on living it

Forget my name, forget my plot, but I am still here, living it

Posted in response to the challenge Ghostly.



18 years old

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