My books are packed.
I held their souls in my very hands.
Now, the shelves howl with darkness.
Hollowed.

I feel empty too.
Neither here nor there.
My life is packed. My books are packed.
The emptiness fills me.

Perhaps, I should take out my books,
Put them on the shelves,
And look at them,
One
Last
Time...

I trust books
and the people that beer with me.

it takes two hours to loose myself
and a lifetime to find her again.

i look for her in dark bookstore alleys,
fingers across the shelves,
aware i am not the first
and will not be the last,
but for now i am your only.

a splinter catches my finger
and it reminds me that i can breathe.

I had an addiction,
every word had a new connection,
reading left me with a daily fascination,
even helped me look beyond my own reflection.

I had an addiction,
every sip showed me what was perfection,
Earl Grey or English it was my much needed predilection,
even helped me imagine by recollection.

I had an addiction - maybe I have already said,
sleep it seems came only when I read,
dancing words in my half spinning head,
who knew tea could bring new thoughts when old ideas fled.

They say storms even brewed in a tea cup,
my mind was always brewing when staying up,
tea it seems calmed me and yet charged it up,
go write more books for I will have my secret potion to hold my head up.

Late at night
When there's no place to go.
Sometimes I visit the library of your smile.
But not for one particular reason or another.
Sometimes I go because it's so well lit.
Engaging in the silence of a smile.
Sometimes when it's late
I am most comfortable there.
The urge of going somewhere yet everywhere
Between the bookcase of your lips.
Following the ridges & creases that most people
walk by without second glance.
Sometimes there just isn't enough time in the day,
Following the adventures and misadventures
of earth tone browns
Reference guides & resources.
To volunteer to such precious things
Late at night when I have no where to go
I visit the library of your smile.
But not because I have no where to go
There is no place like you around.
All in proper regard to the staff

Such dusty wings,
Crackling spines.
Such musty smells
Just as I remember.
Though perhaps a little older,
As I am older.
Perhaps left behind,
As I left them there.