I’m the reading
inside your story.
I read between the lines
that I come across
when I touch your skin.

I’m the writing,
the storyteller
of our history together.

I read,
you write.
I’m in
then I’m out.

In motion you’re in
to inspire my ink
that walks through paper
and that’s how you’re out
’cause I’m writing
all what I felt
when you were inside.

I’m the reading
that talks to you
in a whisper,
telling you that I’m coming.

I’m the writing
that welcomes you
in a warm space
without thinking.

I’m the reading
recognizing that your words
rumble in sweet emotions.

I’m the writing,
I’m my own ink,
I feel what you read.

I’m the reading,
I am now the storyteller
I can’t wait to read you;
I just can’t wait.

I’m the writing
that tells you…
wait no more
here I am,
feel me now.

Here you are,
here I am
and as the reader
that I am
I can tell,
I can see;
there is love in your ink.

Yes there it is,
I’m the writer
that cannot longer deny
the words that in ink
want to come out,
but I have no voice
I need you to give me one.

With pleasure
I give melody to your ink
and with pleasure
I say…
Me too.

Yeah! I feel it now,
I feel the voice coming along
here it is,
hear me now saying…
I love you.