My Diary

I have looked in every nook and corner of my home.

On the study table,

All around the dining room,

At the corner of the beds,

And beneath the staircase.

But every night I come back to my bed empty handed.

Has it escaped,

Or was it never there?

I try to find it in numerous texts or the few coffee dates

Because that’s about the only place I can trace my friends.

It does seem to be hiding there at times

But vanishes every time at the touch of my sight.

Every night I come back to my bed empty handed.

Has it escaped

Or was it never there?

I have looked for it in the gardens.

I have looked for it in the bright sky.

But it seemed that I finally found it in you.

That it was always there but I had never looked.

But now when even you want to escape,

What do I do with this ache?

As much as I could, I have stored it in my diary,

Where it shall forever be.

And now every night that I’ll come back to bed

I won’t be empty handed

Because it’ll be there with me.