Category:

I, the fabled I,
touched & cultivated
by thou upon thou

write away
"personal feelings"

I's I's relationship
with the door way or chair
     intimate too,
     like running with abandon
     through fields of open green

The birds scatter, in play,
they know Me

I writes them forward
I practices their looks
  in notebooks
     , with feeble words

Did i even know you in our dungeon home?
    Could you see Me?
    Did you look?
    Did I?

"Im here" the Diary says
"Its fine to meet you"

E'en after the fires
     I set in the past,

the bridges I burned
    to myself hold intact...

The action cannot be writ
    which is the one
    that must be done
    	 when there is
	 no room to run

Precious one,
  bring more pain;
I was loath,
  before, to say:

   just in case
   you didnt know:
   
   I know i am equipped
     to let you go