Sindy, Year 10Sydney Girls High School

Paper HeartPaper hearts full of paper people in paper houses and paper words,Not real, yet realer than anything else.They hold within their pressed pagesMy tears and my memories,

Like sealed lips that will never tell.This paper heart has been mineAs long as my brother has been mine,And it was my brother who tore its face off – accident, he says.Is that irony?And my mother fused together its skin,Skin that is stained black and blue like a bruise.This paper heart holds the smell of spring on the swing set outsideWhen I was nine.And the whispers of winter at twelve,The taste of blue, dewy airAnd salt water at fifteen, promises tomorrow.And I am grateful for the paper words and the paper treesThat breathe lifeInto my paper hearts.