My Secret Keeper

I used to own a diary you know?
Yeah.
I wrote something everyday
For years I kept that diary
I wrote each page my sorrows
The lines I told my sins.

When the world became too much
I’d sit on my bed
lay pillows all around me and write ‘til I cried
To me, it was a new place entirely…
My world was that paper and I was the pen

I loved that diary dearly, it provided me security
Sad as it may be I was happy I could trust it
There was one hundred percent Ilissa in those sentences.
My thoughts were in the metaphors.
My heart between those lines.

I couldn’t live with out my diary

But I stopped writing to my diary.
Over the years it got misplaced.
And not ONCE did I notice it missing.

Well I came across my diary today.
I remember that girl.
She was telling me about the day she learned the word ‘retrospect’
I felt like I was there with her doing the whole day again
She loved the word, and what it’s idea had to offer
But that’s not why she was writing that night.
You were the reason she wrote.

So here she is now.
And she still loves her diary.
Only now her world cant be written.
She speaks it everyday
No longer does she hide in her world within the pillows
I can now sit on my bed in the arms of my diary in the world as it is.

But I still can’t live without my diary.