I pick up our memories
like forgotten dusty books
my gentle touch is a remedy
for the thin paper that lonely hurts

dark library is where I choose to read
dark, with nothing on its shelves
except you and me

chapters of love
chapters of sadness
there is one of forgiveness
several of madness

words written but never spoken
love present, still unbroken  
memories inking my mind
I try to leave you behind

I’m still reading, holding your hand
I can’t pronounce it
or maybe i can.