I am not going to share this with you.
Never
going to speak aloud,
only write
and write
and write.
I will share it with the world,
handwriting in print,
stamped with my heart,
authentic.
I will share those thoughts,
the ones you turned away from,
the ones that maybe
just maybe
just maybe-

I will share the events,
every moment
or silent step
or loud heartbeat
or quiet answer
or scripted scene
or word worth recording,
though there isn't much to tell.
Still, I want to know;
can you hear me?
I'm just wondering
where you are,
what you say
when you hear my name,
what you hear
when I write these words.
Tapping,
scrolling;
I imagine your fingers
pausing and tracing
the glowing lines
and the stupid hopes
poured into these pieces.
Pieces,
small,
unique,
alone.
I'm done with this.
Whether or not
your eyes chance upon
a memory or two,
who cares?
It's all gone now,
flowed from my fingertips forth onto the paper
a while ago;
this, now,
this is the very
last
drop.