Jon couldn’t speak, and when he'd run out of paper he'd leave notes on me. So I’d wake up in the morning with —Be back at eight, on my arms or —Meet me for dinner? on my legs. Then I’d walk around the rest of the day with the ink scorching into my skin, until I fell asleep with his compliments (—Your eyes look beautiful tonight, —I like your dress, —Your hair’s so soft, —Your neck smells good) resting in between my fingers.

I could relive conversations from weeks ago; at work I’d peer closely at my collarbones to find the traces of a joke that I’d laughed at two nights previously, or when I laid in bed at night I could feel the marks on my skin where he’d pressed the pen-nib hard during an argument. I had no excuse for forgetting a date, and sometimes when I shaved after a lazy week I would find Jon's foreplay remaining underneath.

One night he wrote all over me: —I love you, on my arms; —I love you, all around my legs; —I love you, moving up from my breasts, onto my neck. Now it went around my ears and traveling across my cheek and —I love you, was gently pressing on my Cupid’s bow, rising onto my snub nose; —I love you, rising up to my bridge and covering my forehead, bordering on my widow’s peak. —I love you, would be on the small of my back, ripping over the top of my shoulder blades, curling round my hips (more than one fitted onto my love handles), brushing past my navel and —I love you, reached down into my jeans. The next day I took a long shower, watching as the —I love yous all washed into each other and dripped off my body, and the ink circling around the drain as it faded in with the water. The blackness swirled around the bottom, leaving traces on the bath edge, and I watched the reflection of my eyes stare back at me.

After a while, the usual five month time period that I had become used to marking out the estimated span of my lovelife, the messages became excuses. —Sorry I’ll be home late tonight, and —Had to leave early, became prominent; the placing less thoughtful, so I would catch a train with —Gonna meet some friends, on the back of my neck. It became so that I wouldn’t see Jon—he was a ghost, moving around in my apartment and leaving his traces on me to build a one-way conversation out on my skin. I could feel that I was losing him: every message seemed less permanent. We became less of each other, but it still felt like I was all of him. Whenever I saw Jon it felt like a prize until he wouldn’t pick up his pen to write for me and the disappointment rained in.

Until one day I woke up to find Jon missing by self-abduction and finally it was just —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, all over my body. —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, was against my cream complexion, reaching as far as it could go and —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, was blotting up my pores with its thick ink and coarse lettering. He put the words into abstract patterns so that —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry was in mathematical regiments; spiraling in the golden ratio and creating a snail’s shell where my cleavage used to be, before I was raped by time. You could tell where —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, became distracted and it became pictures of landscapes: the words sprouted up from my backside into forests and vines and leaves; and clouds of —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, floated below my hairline. It was put everywhere, the ink seeped into every crevasse in my body, even on my eyelids and it was always, —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, until the words didn’t mean anything.  —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, —I’M SORRY, I’M SO SORRY, —I’M SORRY, I’M SO SORRY, and I didn’t wash for weeks, letting the ink blend in my skin so that not a single —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, remained. All around the apartment you could see where I had been collapsing because, —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, was smeared on my walls and for weeks all I could feel pressing on me was —I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, —I’M SORRY, I’M SO SORRY, until I was just an ink blot huddling on the bed.

Then I washed him all away.