Dear Diary

I regret burning those pages,
For they were painted with the anger, discomfort
And the daggers that did the damage

I'm left with what remains,
The blood spilled but no sign of knife .

Those pages were set alight,
And the proof of pain was brought to ashes.
I mourned the girl within
And mocked the ‘lover’, lost.

It comes to me in flashes,
A “lover” that gouged out the innocent heart,
Bleeding with sincerity,
And squelched out the hope.
I mourn the child and regret the ashes,
For I have been altered, just as those pages.

Marred at the hands of a wolf in a lover’s clothing.