I paged back through my diary
And saw your name on every page,
Remembered things I’d buried long ago
Like subtle little movements of your eyes
And almost every word you said
To me;
Only you
Could make into that naïve girl I was,
Bring her back for an encore performance
A solo rendition of not the pleasure, but the pain.
There she stands, on a stage in my head
Shouting it all out, every sordid detail
Scraping a protective layer off my heart.
My diary was never finished
There’s still reams of blank pages,
I’m going to leave it that way
Exactly the way you left me.
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