You unlock your page(s),
pen some shit,
and then close the journal again.
Why?
I know you read this.
Don't pretend.
Again, these aren't
just bullshit blog posts.
You don't know me,
especially these days.
But...
Can you tell me one thing you remember about me?
I've been so many places,
changing along the way,
with feathers in my hand
and a radio on each night stand.
Every night
is the same,
I check my phone
and look for your pages.
Is it raining where you are?
Don't try to feed me,
as I wake and wipe my stupid mouth on my red shirt,
because we have all experienced hurt.