It is the only one who listens to me
I am the only one who will write notes on it
One emotional notebook with an elongated spiral backbone
One that might not want to listen, but does
A lively collection of diverse thoughts

Its listening skills startling
Its eyes watch as the pen moves wistfully along the paper
Left to right, top to bottom
My thoughts rain heavily onto the page
Like running water from a faucet

Let me forget to tell it my thoughts
And watch as my brain explodes from such hysteria
Listen to me I say, turn your page and let me write more, more, more.

When I do not write
That is when the notebook closes its bindings
Tightly secure underneath my bookshelf, hidden from the outside world
One emotional notebook, with deep knowledge to share
One emotional notebook, which won’t open its mouth
One emotional notebook controlled by me