Burning diaries

I do not write of you in my personal journal. There are no mentions of how warm your deep brown eyes were when I first gazed into them, and you gazed back. Not a single paged stained with the blissful nights I spent awake, tireless, adrenalized with the might of your love. You will not find the paragraph that raves in explicit detail of our first awkward hug, nor of the kiss that followed a month after. The fireworks that have burned and continue to burn between us leave no ashes among the pages. I have no need to explain about the complexity and depth of our sacred bond. No need at all. For you are the pages of my personal journal.