Journal

It’s just pages.

It’s just days.

And “sorry, I forgot to journal days.”

I write about how good it was.

I write about fall leaves and scribble it out.

I write about how embarrassed I am all the time.

What a whimsical thought, I just wrote.

That no one will ever see, 

Which makes me sad.

After I brush my teeth, I write.

After I write, I go to bed.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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