i stop and take a double glance:
there i see your name,
on a book, on a shelf,
behind this thin glass pane.
oh, you've done it,
just as i said you would.
you'd write your sad heart out
and say all you never could.
and i'm conflicted
over giving myself a copy,
but i want to know how you are
and if your eyes have remained starry.
inside the store,
the air burns in suspense.
l see your name
and nerves commense.
the pages are rough,
the words boring into me;
how long did you hurt
before writing like nobody?
each word flowers in images,
care preserved within the lines,
sadness evoked when you wrote
"your smile was never for mine,"
and i suppose it wasn't,
i see now the glass has cleared.
we ran in each other's circles,
and nothing felt as it appeared.
his love was burrowed in his heart,
you wrote in truthful manner,
and they tore their insides apart
and sewed, within themselves, daggers.
i shut the book close
as my eyes bear your confession,
nothing in us but space
aa my chest twists in confusion.
and i'll wonder my night awake
why you could never talk to me,
but could take your pen and paper
and write secrets to fill a sea.
junie
YOU ARE READING
𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐘 ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ ✓
Poetry𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐘──── ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ junie reunites with a boy she once knew, hopeful for wishes never meant to come true ᴀɴᴅ luke is a memory lost with...
