Monday, April 22, 2013

Diary of My Days

Little blue book

Opening to my touch
                need you so much

Shh ... it's a secret
                but my head must crack
for a minute or two

I turn to you
                You understand
                                don't say a word

Writing with a fever

                and I don't know

WHY?  You won't tell
                I understand myself
My private little hell inside
                a book
it dwells day by day
                my thoughts collapse on a pen
Jumbled and careless
                THEY FALL

But then my book sweeps them up with her worn fingers
                And reminds me of

A Grandparent I never knew
A father I never had
                A mother that left
A brother's death
                A sister - CAME CLOSE
A love - will it last? 
My DIARY knows.

Mdawn (circa 1996)

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Please critique my poetry; I am not bashful. Thanks for your feedback! Melissa ;-)