The Same Page

On the edge of the bed, a motel sigh,

I open the drawer, where old memories lie.

A book with a crease, a marked page unfolds,

the same worn-out line, a story retold.

After the fight, it sits there like fate,

a reminder of love, of hearts that await.

Will we turn this corner, or circle again?

I close the drawer softly, the ink stains my pen.