Flipping through the pages of her incomplete journal,
I wanted to walk through the meadows, her hand in mine.
I felt a sense of comfort in her quest for absolution,
Driving through her paper towns, the lifeless dreams she once had.
She reminisced in her walk through the dimmer streets,
The underhanded corners in her paper alleys,
Dragging her down the endless spiral of misfortune,
The addiction that once was ever so irrepresible.
She looked up to the sky pouring down on her paper streets,
She looked up to the sky and prayed for remission.
She walked into the sunlight, breathing in the crisp, warm breeze,
Feeling pardoned, resuscitated from her dreamless sleep.
In this broken, rickety paper town that thrived despite its secrecy,
Where people stepped over the paper graves, never a second look,
She built her paper castle in the darkest of alleyways,
Beseeched the clouds to never pelt down on her paper fantasies.