Paper

There's a feeling in my heart.
I transfer it to words, punctuation, paragraphs.
I tell it to sit stay and not in my heart.
When I want it back, I go to it and read it into me.
Or I can hide it and put it away.
The feeling becomes the words, punctuation, paragraphs.
It's not mine anymore.
It belongs to paper.
It is the paper.
It's not me or mine or my heart.