I’m always searching foranother meaning on theinside of your words.You write out that...

I’m always searching for

another meaning on the

inside of your words.

You write out that you

no longer love me, I take

that as an invitation

to become close again.

So I try to bring you

back to me. I put my

hands out in front of you

and beg for you to see

the scars on my skin

of where I once touched you.

You ask me if I understood

the hint; if I can say

that you have moved on,

that you are better off

without me. I take that

hint as an invitation,

one that was never supposed

to belong to me.