Her.

I thought I lost her,

but she's still inside me

making noise.

Before her,

there were just characters:

and nothing more.

I've never since

felt a love so pure,

and she's still inside me

somewhere

making noise.

There's still a little piece of her

inside me

like a shard of glass;

and it stings me.

The pleasure.

The pleasure

was like no other.