Our hearts are made of paper
They have little etches and scribbles
And marks that run deep
They can be torn, broken, and ripped
Or crinkled up and thrown away.
But in our hearts there lies, a piece that is blank and clean
The piece that lives to be felt
But never will be seen
Only one person will write there and you'll know when too
Because only three words will be written
And they speak the utmost truth
And I promise they will say:
I Love You.
