I've always loved reading, the way the pages felt beneath my fingers, the way the little black words looked against the paper, whether it be yellowed or new. I've always been good at deciphering what the books as saying. I understand them, and they understand me.
But you, you are not a book. I made the mistake of thinking I could read your eyes and see what you were saying with those tiny black letters invisible to most. Your eyes seemed to smile and I thought you were saying "I love you," when in reality, you were warning me not to come too close.
Fire burns books, and you are fire.
YOU ARE READING
Fly Away
PoetryA collection of poems about letting go of someone once loved, of allowing them to spread their wings and fly on their own. Dedicated to the one who I must let go of my love for, the one who I know will never be mine; to the one who will now take fl...
