Sunday, April 20, 2014

Black Book

There is crispiness in the air,
i am an open book
a secret book
a filthy dirty ugly book
blackened pages with invisible words
you take the white pen
and scribble in me

scribble your name all over my pages
fill me in with you innermost thoughts
the ones you are ashamed to voice
let me be your welcome wagon
fill me in with the words of your soul

I am blackened sheets
and bound edges
i am yours to keep
beneath blood and bone
under mattresses
where the boogey man lives
i am nothing but just a book.

I have spent nights
lying beneath you
singing songs of broken words
grammatical errors and little tear drops,
i reach out for you
but i have no hands.

I am but a book
with blackened pages
filled with scribblings
of a broken soul.


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