dear diary

you close me every night

when it becomes time

to sleep

and you don’t know what

that little thought 

means to me

to know all your secrets

your life and your fears

to feel all your joy

and to soak in your tears

my skin is of paper

my blood is of ink

when you’re around me

at least I can think

when you write in me

I have a mind

a life and a voice

even if it’s not mine

I’ll tell you all the things

you want to tell yourself

and I’ll reflect the answer

and try my best to help

and even if you tear

away a page or two

I know I am not me

but at least I am you.