She writes in it every day. The diary of Jane. How I ponder what it is about. Am I in it? The diary of Jane. Jane. When she is around me, my arms are covered in goosebumps, her blond hair, her pale skin and her red lips. She writes in it every day, the diary of Jane. I lay in her arms as we converse about nothing. I ponder of what is in that diary of hers. Her red lips form around my pink ones. Our first kiss. Shudders are shooting through me like an adrenaline rush. Warm and soft. She falls asleep with her head on my lap and I take the chance and read it. Th diary of Jane. I have no place, in the diary of Jane. My dips and tear splashes onto the page. I pull out my lighter and start to burn the pages. I have a love who has no place for me in the Diary of Jane.
This is a story, but written in a lyrical way. I like the way you use lots of sensory observations, showing us how it feels to be with the beloved, but also we can feel the uncertainty, the need to be memorialized into her diary. I remember when writing in a diary was a big deal . . . do people really do that anymore? Regardless, I love bringing back an idea from long ago & using it as a symbol in your story . . . the diary is a good way to show this longing to be more in her life, but in the end, he finds out he's not really a significant part of her life after all. This last part is left open-ended, so the reader can figure out what it all means. I have one tiny suggestion, tho. After this line: "She falls asleep . . . and I read it." This would be a good place to show instead of tell . . . let me see the guy flipping frantically thru the pages, looking for his name somewhere, anywhere, where is his name? Instead, you move to the conclusion too quickly. Take your time on these pivotal moments, draw it out, let us really feel how he might feel as he tears thru the pages looking, looking & not finding *smile* Fondly, Margie