The Old Diary

Written by: Gloria Watts

The Old Diary

I  turn each page
black on white scribbles
of yesterdays long gone.  
Eyes strain, ache, 
hold back tears that threaten
as words half remembered
sear my brain.

Stained, brown-edged, each
page a sword that pierces, 
draws forth old resentments, 
frustrations buried deep,
worms that gnawed held 
ever close through 
wasted years.

A story told, 
once dear, buried beneath 
words spoken in haste, never
revealed the love, and hate
held close to snake through  
body and soul until
eternity