It hides among shadows beneath her bed
With shoestring wrapped around to keep it closed.
I quickly read my name in streaks of blue
Across a page of cluttered memories.
My conscience, strong and able, chose to let
This bold intrusion slide with doubtful eyes.
The me who lives inside this private book,
Would never snoop, or even drink a beer.
John D. Lippincott currently studies at Berklee and is a student editor of FUSION.