You are a mystery. A riddle without an answer.
A tounge twister I can't wrap my sense around.
I would never find the answers in between your lines.

If you were a library I could never read everybook.
Not even if I could live forever.
Not even if your library would let me in.

And yet, on the cold ground I wait. My body caves in on itself, shrinking under the shadow casts by your walls.

Your fortress. Your empire. Your kingdom.

You are everything that I love and yet I am exiled.

Your name would hang above the doors in gold, glittering like the ice crystals freezing my shattered heart together.

But here I wait. And here I'd still wait.
Even after I'd gone blind, or forgotten how to read.
Because if your library ever let me in, there is no sweeter smell than old books.

let no trust in self

trust people to be themselves

be unrewarded

You’d have better luck storing rain in your mouth
Steadying quiet clouds with your eyes
Alive

Mere perfection doesn’t exist I see
No
And the cake is a lie

It’s the desire to interject
And infuse
Which I push against

Yourself insinuating from which I hide

This look says me
Let me feel my feelings felt
Or else there is no point left alive