Riddonkulous

I breathe in ink yet never sigh, No pulse have I, no watchful eye, Yet all your hidden truths I spy. By candle’s glow or morning light, You feed me thoughts you dare not write For any ear or passing face, But trust to me in quiet space. I cradle whispers, sharp or sweet, Of fleeting days you wish to keep. A storm of words, a gentle stream, The weight of fact, the drift of dream. My skin is thin, my heart is wide, I wear your secrets deep inside. Each page a door, each line a key, To who you were and came to be. No judge am I, no voice to blame, I hold your truth without a name. Through joy and ache, through loss and fire, I echo thought, record desire. What am I, both still and deep, A vault of moments yours to keep?