I don't know when I fell in love with you. 

But I do remember when I held your hand, thinking of how hard it'll be to let go. 

Can we fix it?

I think I know what it is. I have this obsession with fixing things. My fingertips are like screwdrivers, and my fists are like hammers. But my problem is, I'm trying to fix everything, and all with broken tools.