Written by Moonflower

I’m just a paper bag.
Given to you by hands of fate,
unrecognisable, indistinct.
You were the kind of stranger,
who flashed me a sincere smile,
when I passed on by.
I blended in the background of thousands,
carrying nothing but emptiness.

I met you again.
Drenched under the bus stop,
our conversation slow and awkward,
like the rain dripping off the metal shelter.
You didn’t let on much,
you only offered your sweet voice.

The words we spoke grew heavier over time,
substance replaced emptiness,
you shared some of your burdens with me,
and I was happy to carry them.
You filled me with hope,
with happiness, with understanding.

As soon as you realised,
that I was just a carrier,
you were quick to change.
Your smile no longer for me.
I was still glad to fulfill the purpose.
You off-loaded everything you didn’t want onto me.
Emotions were over-flowing,
and I noticed, even though you stocked me up,
there was nothing there.
I’m not as reliable as you thought.
I am weak, I am plain, I am feeble.

You wore me out,
I couldn’t cope.
I still believe it’s not your fault,
but you have to realise that,
I am just a paper bag,
and you tore me apart.