The Book
The letters on the page
Like stars in the inky blue sky
As I cut them away, a tear escapes my eye
And I cry
My tear hits the pages,
The ink smears
The hole in the book is ready now
I lay my knife next by the snowflakes of paper on the floor
It doesn't glisten, it is dull
Unlike the story it has just destroyed
Peer over the edges of the new abyss
I dip in my big toe
And whip it back from the cold
Fuck it
I dive headfirst into that other world
The book
The pages
The knife
Are the only hints I was ever there
YOU ARE READING
One Day Counts
RandomIn 2015, I will be writing one poem a day. These are those poems.