Dear diary;
I have always felt
like an inconvenience.
Perhaps that is why I flee
before I am made
aware of it.

What is sadder than
to end something that could have
given us much more?

11:31 PM
26/4/23

You and I were
never truly alone-
our demons always accompanied us
through love and through pain.

I don't know
how long I will miss you,
perhaps it will take as long
as I've wanted you:
an eternity.

Night has come,
and with it, the shadows
and the sorrowful moon.
I lie in bed and it's a little too silent.
I close my eyes, waiting for sleep,
but it always never comes.
You come to me in darkness
and I am reminded of a warmer time
so very far from where I ended up.
You are not here and neither am I,
at least the I that you remind me of
so very long ago, so very far from alone,
or maybe I always have been.

Why do I write about you
when you cannot see my words?
I do it because my heart
will not let me have it any other way.
This feeling may silence this voice,
it may even destroy me,
but these hands will continue
to write.

You want me to stay silent,
but how can I?
I cannot do it anymore.
There are emotions,
there is blood,
there is love
that cannot be silenced
and one day she will understand.