Even when I'm tired, and all the memories,
have begun to fade,
My words will bleed you onto the page.
Even when the heartache finally, oh finally,
starts to slip away,
My words will bleed you onto the page.
Even when I can feel your hand in mine,
But cannot picture your sweet face,
My words will bleed you onto the page.

I do not think there shall ever be a time,
In your existence, or in mine,
When my words do not bleed you onto a page.
I'll write you into every history,
Every love story,
Every poem.
So that even when we are all dead and gone,
No one will ever forget you.