I write your stories,
I give life to your tragedies,
To my tragedies.

I write what my heart feels,
And fantasies my mind concocts,
To escape pain.

I write what I want to say to you,
Although you may never know,
"To my dearest friend..."

I write because I can not speak,
Speak of these secrets I keep;
She is the silent sufferer, the silent witness, the silent healer.

Please, let me write.
I do not wish to speak...
I like to heal the suffering and writing heals me.

I write my feelings towards
You and towards them,
Because I could not tell you, I could not shout it out...

You could never find me
In the dark;
She is a writer, not a speaker.