365 Days of Poetry (Part Two)

Day 52: Writings of Happiness.

For a heart, some have a bookshelf; standing tall and true.

Through their very veins runs ink, of all the shades of blue.

Into their stories is where they'll write you, as ideas flood their brain.

Once one story has been written, they'll start all over again.

With all the stories penned by them, their bookshelf's filling fast.

Though giving up they will not do, as happiness they've found at last.

So many have flicked through the pages, but stopped before the end.

Never will they ever know, what beauty such words may lend.

In particular there is one, pushed to the furthest backs of their mind.

A story that sits collecting dust, its meaning, they will never find.

There are endless books they're scared to open, yet some are never closed.

Each person they've met has a story, stretching endless rows.

While some, they hold merely a sentence; others, a main part.

All have left their ink-stained footprints, right across their heart.

But why might some do this, writing of those whom they once knew?

Well maybe, just maybe they hope, one day they'll mean enough.

For it to cross another's mind, to write about them too.