Abandoned, incomplete works of emotion
litter these several spiral-bound books.
Unfinished letters to people
I hate and love with all my heart.
The words lie on the paper,
undisturbed and untouched
by the eyes of both their writer
and those for whom they were meant.
The words I could never say,
but they were so easy to scribble.
Pages and pages
of pure vulnerability,
run-on sentences until I trembled
too much to continue,