Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2017
You didn’t turn the pages and you refused to look past the cover
The dark overtones and jagged edges repulsed you
It wasn’t flat. It wasn’t cut and dry
You wanted simplicity and the book was anything but that
You left it laying about your house.
A landing spot for your coffee mug on your way out the door
A place to toss your keys as you dispersed your belongings around the house
This book had you taken the time to open it would’ve intrigued you
Piqued your interest
Caught your attention
Left you holding your breath as you turned the pages
Had you opened the book you’d have found exactly what you thought you had been missing
Had you opened the book you’d have been left, rivited by the last page
You’d have reread the last 4 pages over and over becuase you weren’t ready for it to end.
But instead you judged it
And the cover alone scared you
Do you realize you didn’t even get to the good part?
You missed the best parts and you aren’t even aware
How do you miss something you never had?
Do you feel the regret wafting in like a Still breeze, you don’t know what you had
Or maybe you did, maybe the cover was all you needed to see. Maybe that was enough
Maybe leaving this stone unturned, that page unread, this book unopened was exactly what you needed.
You didn’t keep the book because you knew you’d never see the words it held between its dark  covers
You jammed in into the drop slot outside a library it didn’t even belong to.
Anxious to rid yourself from the feeling of impending emotions
Desperate not to feel, not to give in, not to let the middle precede the last
I wish you would’ve opened the book
Not to the first page, not even to the middle. I’d have settled for the last page.
Becuase it’s there where I finally got it together.  
It’s there that I laid it all bare, a night sky open for All to see. It’s there that I sewed a piece of myself into the words. It’s there that I’d have taken your breathe away and stolen your heart.
But again, these are all just words trapped in a book you returned. unread.
Books never were your thing.
Brokewench
Written by
Brokewench  26/F
(26/F)   
  361
   Xallan and Marshall Messi
Please log in to view and add comments on poems