Pens and Pages

She stares at the blank paper Crumbled a million times, Like her own life. She stares at the glass of wine, As clear as her heart could be, Sparkling only when it should - Every time you look at it. He looks at the mess she is now, Oh, didn't he love her once, For the tears and the scars? Time plays its part As it moves on, He too moves on And she, like the paper She holds, Holds a life that needs Someone to unfold it, To wipe the wrinkles Off her pale white face. A tear-drop finds its way To her soul, bruised, He laughs and goes off While she awaits  Another tragedy...