“I was ready to sleep you know, until I found the letter. Echos of laughter and doodles in the margins. Black pen scrawls intentionally contradicting the straight blue lines of the page like you are flipping the finger at conventional thinking. Sticky cinnamon roll fingerprints and a tuft of moss just because. Stark honesty with a flippant quip, green eyes peering through veils of ink.
Signed with love and smelling faintly of regret, the memory of you tucked secretly between the covers of my book. The words you gave to me are beautiful and tragic, painful yet sweet, so I hold them for a while just tasting their flavor.
I sigh with the nostalgia of summers past, and lay them gently back down to rest with the pink rose petals in the binding, silencing your whispers amidst a profusion of pages. It does not stop them from haunting the shadows once I have turned out the light, for it is never too dark to read words branded on your tender heart.
I should have never given you that damn key…”