Archive for June, 2012



After days of silence
You told me about something
That I think was making you sad.
I tried to reach out to you.
Your eyes turned to ebony,
A dark, hard timber.
And they said:
Do not feel sorry for me.

My Diary

The book was my confidante,
Because at times it seemed I didn’t have anyone else.
Written in pencil
It contained all the joys, the hurts, the sorrows.
And all the love.

He was my darling boy.
Perfect, but imperfect.
Everything I wanted, yet flawed.
But I loved those flaws.
He didn’t have a book.
If only he’d confided in me.

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