It still makes my heart crack when I read something you wrote for me.
I think of how easily the pencil glided across the paper as you wrote a book of love.
How you're words, oh so sweet, made me smile so bright.
Then hearing you say them made me feel like a child in a candy store, overwhelmed with excitement and paralyzed with happiness.
Now, I shake when I hold what used to be our love story.
The words in front of me engraved in my head with your voice, and the way you blushed while reading them to me.
So, I'm stuck with a memory reaching out for you, making the crack bigger.
When will it be that the crack is hit by a big enough earth quake that I will no longer have anything left to hold onto?