I read a story today.
It was the diary of two lovers.
The give and take of a lifetime.
They talked of things profound and deep.
Letters written over years
Bound with great care.
A great depth revealed and I felt nothing.
The words sounded hollow, the meaning lost.
I was unsettled, unsatisfied.
Then it occurred to me.
It was not mine to read.
It was not mine to feel.
It was not about you and I.
I was a stranger looking into another persons joy
Examining their hopes, their fears and their sorrows.
Today I will begin my own diary.
I will write you a letter.
I will tell you of my hopes and my fears.
I will tell you all the things you mean to me.
I will bind it with care.
In the years to come
I examine it.
I will feel,
I will be satisfied.
I will know it is my truth.