I found your journal and saw the words
you had scrawled across each page.
It was wrong to spy and absorb your soul
observe those moments of peace and rage.
When you love someone you want
to draw closer to that person's being.
The thoughts you wrote into your book
were at times vague and fleeing.
Still, I read each note within your journal
I became lost, absorbed in the man.
I felt your pain, the deep-seeded sorrow
when you lost all hope and ran.
A tender part, I finally found hidden,
inside your book of life and dreams.
I felt a smile forming, spreading
upon my face, how odd it seems.
There in the most beautiful style
I thought possible. I did see.
You had inscribed the words, I love her.
Those words you wrote to me.
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