I got a beautiful journal for my birthday.
Red leather, small enough to fit comfortably in my hand.
I'm too afraid to write in it;
The pages feel special,
Like they deserve words
That are pure and beautiful.
I can't pencil in words that would
Desecrate the ****** smoothness of those sheets.

I'm afraid to write something that doesn't
Live up to what I think
Is worthy to grace the insides of that
Beautiful journal.