I wish I wrote it all out

Before I open my lips,

So I could get my head clear.

I wish I wrote them all down:

The great words you said to me

Forever stuck in my thoughts.

You kept your promises clear

Inked neatly across margins

But then you scribbled them gone.

This is why I keep to myself,

Only an object truly knows.

I should have traced the book’s spine

And thought to myself— long, hard,

Then jot down every word,

Read those words to you aloud

Though you might step on them

Not noticing they are there.

My diary hasn’t ate

Though soon it’ll gobble my dread,

My longing for what I had.

This is why I keep things hidden,

Hidden, lost in the panels.