The Notebook

I don’t know

the plot

of The Notebook.

I only know

the content

on each page

of mine.

Journal entries,

Poetry

Schedules

and triangles

Plans for stories

for books

for tattoos

Orunmila came to life

between the spiral bind

as did my fears and doubts

that consumed my creativity

My notebook holds

my truest truths.

Who I am

What I create

and who I can become.

This notebook holds who I am.

Or at least

who I was in December

to who I am in March.

But this notebook

appears thick on the wrong side.

A new purchase seems in order soon.

What the next shall contain

remains unseen,

But every notebook I fill

is my tangible heart

as ink

on 200 pages.