Do the ends caress what's whithin?
A play upon words, a facade of what is beneath
The pages inside the book now seldom seen
Placed upon a shelf no longer to read
Or the reader did not understand the thread
The plot not to their taste or their perception hazed
Or picked up when in the mood pages turned then put down
Then cast aside unfinished
So what now of this book?
Do you open it's cover and look
Does the cover, it's front and back
Protect the story held inside
The photograph, the front of course the eye catches first or the spine with inviting words
The title that hides the tale inside, cries and smiles truth and lies
Hardback in a true disguise, more costly but often satisfies a weighty tombe a work of size
Holding the story tight, until the time is right
Or softback invitingly there to see
Oh please oh please open and look beneath
The cover so often is a pale facade
No relevance to what's within its charge
For the story may have no end or may need to be re written again
Each reader sees a different thing
The written words scribed as a life I yearn to know what's inside
Though many books are there to see
What is it you really want to read?
Is it the story of an open heart or a drama
Now closed by a reader far to harsh
The story of a persons life like Dickens forgotten bride
Or can it be read by others, when the time is right
A classic re visited late at night, giving the reader warmth and delight.
So reader choose your book with care for taste in books is a "soul"preserve

I'm going to uncover you. I'm going to unmask all the things that haunt you. I'm going to unlock your code and when I do, I'll pour out all of your pieces so I can see every last bit of everything you've kept so hidden.*
---------
See my dear, there is a reason why the moon keeps a part of herself hidden from the gazing eyes. There's a reason why some lovers leave certain words unsaid. There are reasons why some mysteries are better left unsolved.

While they seem hauntingly beautiful, what's hidden there is not beautiful at all; it will ruin you for the rest of your life.

They sat at the big bay windows
Her head resting against it like a pillow
.
He watched her
While she watched the rain
..
He wished for the courage
To grab her hand and take her out to dance
...
She looked over at him
And knowingly smiled at his hopeful glance
....
She looked back to the rain
And slid her hand in his
.....
Because though she loved to dance
He did not know the songs she sung in her head

Let grateful, itself kiss your skin.

Let it twirl and wisp around those fingertips you can tweedle with,
to
write, draw, make unimaginable,wonderful
untitled somethings.

Slowly but surely,
that effervescent feeling bubble into your body;
sparks of bliss lighting those dark, dark oblivions.

I don't care!
Let those words
carelessly snuggle
themselves
in
the lines of your fingerprint.

Bare those pearly whites
everywhere,
sweet-heart!