Madness is loving the unsolvable puzzle of your soul and replacing the lost pieces with my own.

You were the poem I never knew how to write because no words could describe the wind you cannot see, but feel.

You hid in my ink and guided my hand. You stained the pages with your silence as God wrote the words, "Be still." Yet, my heart's blindness could only write in loud hues of red, "I love you.

And when they dusted my mind for your fingerprints they found yours.