She was a walking love letter 

Sweet words written straight to him

Now her inks a little smeared 

But the Sentiments still within

Folded up in the chest pocket of his jacket

Now she’s wide open on the table 

He sits down on the sofa 

Says “let me hold you til you’re stable”

words mostly still clear enough to read

They let her ink dry in the right places

He says “take a deep breath” before she speaks

Safety in silence in these spaces

Her words restored, softly read aloud

Laid open gently on his chest

Even a little smeared, still beautiful 

No point in remembering the rest