I am a closed book
My cover, only a silhouette
The contents, an infinite number of words
I could never speak out loud

I am an open vessel
Bottomless, rarely full
My lid is broken
Yet, you tip me upside down
I will not spill

There are no limits for my consumption
Though there are plenty for my exposure
Like music without lyrics,
I comfort those around me
Without making them feel anything in particular
Not great, nor terrible
A beautiful medium
Whose absence could well go unnoticed,
Eventually replaced

I am several mistakes,
A few secrets,
A couple of regrets
And one hidden heart