Yours Forever

Well, it seems, not forever at all.
Who knows the mysterious ways
of the human heart. These sadly
pensive letters of regret and
longing must have meant
something to whomever they
were meant for, surely? Neatly
handscripted, literate and
heartfelt, I imagine them to have
been addressed by a young
still-heartsick woman to a
young man, their parting amicable
and of mutual agreement however
regretted. They are neatly folded
expressing lingering love and
no solace to be found anywhere
but in memories of time shared
deep in companionship. Discovered
between the pages of a book
discarded for resale, an adventurous
memoir -- so then, written to the
man, one can reason. On the other
hand, this book has been bought
to be given to me, a woman.
Whichever half of an erstwhile 
tender pair who tucked the memories
of a love dissolved evidently
dispensable; the evidence in
the discard of book and letters.