You read me like an open page,
Each thought, each tear, each quiet rage.
You know the chapters of my mind,
The hidden truths I leave behind.
But I write you in a secret way,
In ink that time cannot decay.
Every word, a piece of you,
A story only I see through.
You turn my pages without fear,
But my pen writes you, year by year.
You know my heart, but don’t quite see,
You’re the story inside of me.
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