I was so in love with you. When you made love to me I would write invisible love letters on your skin. poetry on your lips and my name on your fingertips.
I loved how you were selfconscious You complained your teeth were not white enough. but I would write love poems about the warmth that fell from your smile like purest sunlight. I could rest in your smile for hours.
I loved your eyes deep and dark like drowning pools. I would keep my eyes open as we kissed to look into heaven just for a moment.
I loved your gentleness how you touched me so softly as though I would break like a fragile eggshell.
What I did not know was you were a writer as well and when you left you had written poetry all over my body but it was not written with your fingertips but indellibly like the needle of a tatoo artist.
And even when I just think of of letting you go from my heart I read one of the poems you wrote on my skin. and my fragile eggshell heart is shattered and crushed by someone with a velvet touch.