This is me . . .

Years ago, I fell in love . . .

inked words falling on starched white sheets

and well-loved journals filled with penciled scrawl.

In you, I have always found comfort

a place to share secrets and inner dreams.

When no one is left to stand beside me

to listen . . . to hear . . . to dream . . .

I turn to you, my love.

I seek your forgiveness for my imperfect ways

but this is me I write down upon the page

no matter how different or strange it may seem

this is me.

 

SJ, 2012

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