The day I started writing,the lonely me seeked a promise,a promise from someone whom I didn't dare to call mine..
When I pick up my pen and the dictionary of my life,a book called Eternity opens,as the yellowed faded pages are turned,
Will you,with each time I write,count the number of scars on the skin of mine,and at the end,when I need you,I cannot breathe without you,
Will you take me in your arms,the scattered me,or will you let me go,if you wish,I will be glad too,to turn into ashes and scattered in the wind,to be never found again..
With each pages I write,will you be strong enough,kind enough, accepting enough,to not blame yourself,to not hold back your tears,to not try to pretend to be strong when you will feel like screaming..
Will you too,take the love I have in me for you,to gather yourself,when I know, everything in you would make you blame yourself,and will you see yourself through my eyes..
The beautiful you,the shining you,the innocent you,the fierce protector I see in you,and let go of that guilt,if it comes,and stand up again with a smile,to assure me and yourself,that it's over..
Will you,with each book I finish rewrite those memories,tragedies into beautiful stories,that I can later read and laugh..
Will you,as the time to conclusion draws near,I am crumbling into pieces,calling your name,come and draw stars on my scars...
