To Be Loved...

Write to me

I am an open book with endless blank pages. Day after day you open me and scribble your innermost feelings onto my skin. Page after page you write stories of hurt and heartbreak. I do nothing but absorb every sentence, every word, every letter. Line after line I can't help but feel your emotions. After all, they are tattooed across my body from head to toe. Time after time you forget about me leaving me yearning for the, now, foreign touch of your pen. I wonder when you will tattoo me again. Tear after tear you water my soul turning those words into nothing but  washed out memories. Oh how I hate to see you cry. I try to console you but your frustration just leads you to rip me apart seam after seam. You stab the pen through my shredded red heart using my muddy blood as your ink once more. Drop after drop, I savor every bit of your venom. With every letter you write, I die a little bit more inside. My binding is breaking. My pages are running out. I am closing.