I wrote hearts on your skin last night.

Hey me,

if you are waking up and reading this

wondering who wrote all over your body

with crayola markers and tattoo pens.

I wrote hearts on your skin last night.

I know that you are waking up, have to work, have to go, have to do something now

and are wondering "What. The. Fuck?"

I know that you don't have time.

I know that you are having a nervous breakdown.

But before you scrub away all those tiny hearts.

I want to tell you about a few of them....

There is one on the sol of your left foot.

No, not other people's left. Your left.

Its there, circling the faded strawberry that was once a prominent birthmark on your foot.

I started there first, thinking on how marvelous and funny was life.

You know if we were any other baby we would have died, right?

But we fought and we fought. enough to be recognized and cut out.

That's why their is a similar one on the place that once was a man holding a shield and spear on the same side on your shoulder.

There is another one on your belly.

On the bottom part of the belly, right where it folds out.

I want you to remember how others were shaming their figure and you,

you my main girl,

you pinched your belly and proudly introduced everyone to your "pooch"

which is stubborn baby fat that will never go away.

There is one around your right eye.

Don't panic, its crayola. It can wash away.

I placed it there to remind you of all the far-sights that you caught of buses and other things. Of how you now only wink your left eye successfully because of it.

There are three around your heart.

I will not name them by name, don't worry.

we can't have you drowning in embarrassment and shame first thing.

But I will name their significance.

Pure puppy love

First deep love

First freeing love.

Even if you believe you will never find true love, you had many fairy-tale versions that people write about.

There is one around your throat,

no. Don't laugh.

It the lock that you keep tight on yourself.

But I want you to be proud of the fact that you never ripped a person apart with sickly sweet words, like you know you could. 

There are ones in the palm of your hand.

They have given and taken many things.

They have held and broken many things.

But they have greeted four new souls in this world. 

Four that are dear to you, and you to them.

They have created works that made people think, people cry, even made people scared.

They wouldn't have touched these emotions if it wasn't for you.

There is a badly drawn one on your back (I wrote it with our left hand)

You have supported many people, and they have supported you.

And there is one, final inverted heart.

Its underneath your breast which you will have to lift up to see. (I did the most detailed work on it.)

Its your sorrow, your self-loathing, your deep seated rage.

But that tiny thing is special.

As I have realized most things that its worried about, are for other people that you care about.

Even if it wants you to do something so selfish. The intentions are that of a selfless saint.

Its why I drew hearts on you last night.

I want you to take a deep breath, and look at the mirage of other hearts that are splattered on your beings.

I want to have this conversation with you again. Except with more locations and times, except with more meaning powerful enough to come through sorrow-induced slumber.

I want one day for this letter to be so large and so long.

That its a book.

So, yeah I drew hearts on you last night.

Because even though I was crying, deeply wondering why do I even live...

I remembered that I needed to say "I love you" to you today.

And since I'm shit at writing when I'm tired.

I wrote hearts on your skin last night.