Changing a Name

To you, Morning light falls on the grain of the notebook's paper. Unable to delete one old contact, writing only a different name over it. That name is neither strange nor familiar. Only, my fingertips were a little heavy the moment I wrote it. There's one sentence in which the temperature of that day remains intact. Like a spot rubbed out with an eraser, a smudge remains even after erasing. Even when morning brightens, that page is still there, and today too, I'll pass by without calling that name.