I remember
she used to pass her autobook
to everyone
back in those days
before MySpace
before Facebook
when memories
fit inside a few pages
your best photograph
your likes
your dislikes
your hobbies
nicknames
a few quotes
a few poems
some borrowed
some deeply personal
the sky is blue
forget me not
I love you
that was enough
to make you smile
every autobook
felt like a little universe
turn those pages today
and they carry you back
to a place
you never really wanted to leave
those young
beautiful days
the real hackers
were the ones
who tore out pages
and kept them forever
I was different
I never tore a page
I simply never returned
her autobook
because I could never
turn past the first one
every time I opened it
her photograph
was there
greeting me
as though
she was quietly inviting me
into her little world
made of words
a bubble
that never burst
it simply kept floating
inside my heart
brushing against old memories
stirring feelings
I thought had settled
I never wrote
in that autobook
I never wrote
in anyone’s autobook
instead
I filled little pieces of paper
with poems
almost every day
after I fell in love
and she made sure
my membership
in the One Sided Love Association
was approved
without an interview
without an entrance exam
without my consent
I resigned
a long time ago
yet somehow
I still find myself
attending the meetings
sometimes
I still hope
she returns
like a forgotten autobook
because now
I have so much to write
so much to tell
I hope
this time
she would accept me
the way I was
the way I am
unfiltered
like the words
inside her autobook
