Her pen's shorthand impersonated the imprints in her palm which were created before the conclusion that the creases couldn't make the world perfect.
Remorse that these crows feet calculated was carefully composed cursive and they didn't care one way or the other that the end of this page could complete her life.
Her wrinkles found her forgetting that some second chances are a little too late and that any similarities with her ancient agendas would be less compelling in comparison.
This would be the last unsent letter to all of her unrequited admirers from the oldest idol of immaturity that advanced years adored in atonement.
These remnants remembered in her youth were quietly relinquished without words for she was far too ashamed for apologies. She only simply and sincerely signed,
- July 22, 2014. -