so I gave him my journal
full of poems
past truths
proclamations
revelations
inspirations
all of me
pressed between
worn pages
that I hoped he would be
able to handle
he gave me the journal
back
with no explanation
hope tricked me again
or so I thought
the last page of my worn
journal
was where he left his mark
"i make no promises
but I'll try my best to be true"
and with that
I gave him my heart
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