Love

I love to write poems. late at night on my bed my feet where I usually rest my head the lantern on, the heater drones I love to write poems. my heart skips a beat at the creak of the floor hunched over my diary behind closed doors afraid I have woken him when my dad groans I love to write poems. as my hand moves my feelings are spilled reliving my emotions as pages are filled trying to connect, but not seeking to be known One day someone will read my poems.