as my fingers trace your marks,

Ghosts in ink on trees in paper

Pen and sharp and elegance tripping

Over itself, spilling

From that nib like tears of blood or

Love, written as letters;

Life and laughter and pain

As my eyes consume that portrait

Moments caught in oil and water

Brush-scrapes harsh in places, cutting

Pieces out, pointing

To those thoughts we hid and shed and

Shared, written as letters;

Life and laughter and pain

As my mind recalls your way;

Sharp, the blurs, and dark, the light,

Keys enthralled by silent fingers

Playing

Always and saying

Never

What was real and false and

Meant, written as letters;

Life and laughter and pain

Quand je les fais, tu me manques beaucoup.