He knew this would be a challenge
for he was working with a pencil that had been worn down to the tip,
pages that had been torn apart and taped back together
and a story that had been written many times before;
three things that were a reflection of his very own pains and sorrows.
But he figured it’d be worth a shot anyway,
standing face to face with a stranger only his heart could recognize,
as he tossed out the old and reached for the new,
putting down a clean blank sheet of paper as he reached for the pen
an scribbled down the lines;
I love you.
we stopped checking for monsters under our bed when we realized they were inside us.
When I read this, it was like, “OH. That’s deep.”
Because it is. Love it.