Journal

I hold some of her juicy secrets,

But there’s no password that protects me.

Sometimes I lay here empty,

And other times I’m presented like a trophy.

My weight has gone up over these years,

As well as the baggage I carry for her.

I can open myself up to the world,

And show off these colors and scraps.

Or I can stay closed off,

And fall apart where I’m bound.

I keep track of the short days,

And make space for the long ones.

Look! As she flips through me,

Reads me,

Laughs at me,

Regrets and cries,

I see.

That when someone pours their heart out to you

Sometimes its okay,

To just sit,

and listen.