Her heart was in my palm
And if I wanted to, I could break it
Because it was my new project
To repair and stitch back together
But I'm out of needles and thread
Plus, my mother never taught me to sow
But my teachers taught me to write
And maybe I can fix her heart with
Blue and black ink and some paper

I'm not exactly sure how well
It will plaster the parts back into place
But she has beautiful eyes and a kind smile
And she kisses like my devil
And I've been told my writing saves lives
Even though my own soul is shattered
So maybe I can save her heart
WIth my glue-based pen and sticky paper
But when she wants it back
I'm sure she would hand it off
To someone who can stitch with a passion
Instead of me with nothing but
Ink stained skin and a paper thin heart