Do you ever use yourself as a piece of paper? Your name covers my hand. When it fades, I write it again. That's how I love, quietly. And when my ink runs out, I'll carve it into my flesh. It will never fade. That's how I love, painfully. I'll even get a tatoo. Use a needle and ink. That's how I love, passionately. You tell me you don't love me. Your name is still inscribed. I'll never get it taken off. That's how I love, endlessly.