#bookmark
A year ago, I opened a book,
I found a bookmark, a small bookmark.
Curiosity possessed me, and I took a look,
At the words from a heavy heart.
They said:
“I hold onto a rope.
I do not know where it leads.
But it gives me a sense of security.
Do I let go? And stand on my own?
No, for I fear of losing all hope.
So I stay and I follow.”
These words, from a poet unknown.
I read it once, then again,
Minutes had passed since time never lasts.
I wondered how long this poem had been waiting for me.
I prayed that the poet had found a new source of security.
Even now, I dwell on these words,
What had to happen for them to occur?
Why was it I who was left to find,
This snapshot of a person's mind?
These words that they left behind,
Paint a portrait of fear that binds.
The similarities are uncanny,
To myself, the takeaways are many.
I wish they found their hope,
Goodwill toward a poet unknown.
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025 at 11:27 PM UTC
in your bloom, everything finds a softer shape—all bent by tenderness. your sweet fragrance unfurls, letting me feel home in all directions. even in stillness, your presence ripples—like a soft pulse, a faint glow; like the first light gently falling on earth.
you are a flower pressed into my heart—wild and perfect—rooted in every beat, entwining itself to the rhythm of my life.
Apr 27, 2025
Apr 27, 2025 at 10:39 AM UTC
Here I am
Sitting at a simple desk
With a simple light
And a simple book next to me
The bookmark is sticking out on page 10
And in order to move it further
I will have to read
I will have to work
I will have to put my mind to it
Excuses
But life is the same
I feel like that bookmark
Someone has to move me
But doesn’t put their mind to it
I am next to that person
On their simple desk
Under their simple light
Located in a simple book
Why am I left there
Stranded between words
A complete standstill
Because of someone else’s excuses
Aug 29, 2024
Aug 29, 2024 at 6:52 AM UTC
A heartbeat- loud enough to drown out the sounds.
Gypsy rings- the ones that turn your finger green.
A fire- crackling past the perfectly pitched logs.
A silver chain- tangled and twisted like a drunken memory.
Chipped nail polish- fragmented in the shapes of places you have never been.
The lifeline on your left hand- too short for you to get anywhere that you want to go.
A faded tattoo- the one that you regret like your eleventh drink last night.
The red string around your wrist- the one that looks like trickles of blood when it is wet.
The laminated bookmark- the one you ever so eloquently placed in my heart and walked away.
Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 2:34 PM UTC
You are the cover of my favorite book.
& when you open up I am at peace
There isn't a spot of you that I won't
Explore.
From your open arms to your open legs.
We are spontaneous.
In the places we travel.
My fingers but a mark to hold the page.
From my eyes to my hands
I always have time for you.
We are spontaneous
No matter where we are.
No matter who is around
From your open arms to your open legs.
You are the cover of my favorite book.
Your spine stretched against my hands
Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 10:31 AM UTC
There it lay forgotten,
in the shelf gathering dust -
A chapter that had once been opened,
and halfway through shut.
Maybe some day,
in the future near or far
Another may wipe the cover
and with love pick it up
They might turn the pages,
might even read to the end
So don't expect your bookmark
to stay on the same page.
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 2:23 PM UTC
I just ordered
My third cup of coffee
After all, I am in good company
Words spilled before me.
Could they have known —
I will always look for
The smell of old books
In this digital world.
Words, my words,
My heart treasures
To put pen to paper.
Time is unkind
For a writer,
Nothing is ephemeral.
You are
A page marked by a folded corner
A love I will come back to
In the future.
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 4:15 PM UTC
She was a rose, pressed into the pages
Of a book, meant to hold a place.
Instead of a page in a book,
She held a place in his heart,
Which she thought she would always have.
But eventually, bookmarks are lost,
And stories are forgotten,
And all that is left is
The smell of the binding
As the book closes for the last time.
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC
I will always stay in a place where you will keep me, and if ever you will move forward and will start a new chapter.
Always remember that as long as you hold me, I will stay.
As long as you will keep me.
Your heart knows where to find me
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
I’d like to call you a bookmark
because I want to think I can
remove you from my story at will.
But you’re more like a dog-eared page,
that remains creased
long after it’s been remembered and unfolded.
When I flip through the pages
I’ll always catch my thumb on you
and try to find the lesson
you may or may not have taught me
about love
or myself.
But I’m pretty sure all you’ve left me with
is a deep, stinging paper cut
that makes me hesitant
to ever pick up a book again.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 10:14 PM UTC
YOU are the book that he wants to keep reading.
I'm just a bookmark, that reminds,
but always end up scattered, forgotten.
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 12:49 AM UTC
when she says she is empty,
she is not asking to be filled.
stretch her thin and you will see
gold
peeking through her worn body.
stretch her thin and you feel her
fire
burning what you hold.
do not hold her.
when she says she is numb,
she is not asking to feel something.
do not wait out her novocaine
mood
drooling down her chin.
do not wait out her novocaine
high
she is elated.
do not bring her down.
she is a bookmark holding someone else's place:
do not move her.
someone left her,
waiting,
she does not know the other side:
that does not mean you show her.
someday she will be fire.
she will dry all that she has soaked with her
ravine heart.
you will follow her black markings to something
gold
she will be followed.
do not be surprised when she does not moan,
she will not moan,
she does not feel.
she is still ice.
when she says she is ice
do not try to melt her.
she will be fire.
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 10:46 PM UTC
This is a bookmark from your life
a bookmark in mine
a piece of paper
briefly stopping time
bringing our together our stories
or else maybe a thorn
burying itself
within my heart
' Felicity', your name
means joy but can you bring me any
did you even know
he would give it to me
the glitter, single yellow feather
carefree yet placed calculatedly
upon the red background
red as your distant country's flag
I forget how old you must be now
six, I presume
you've not yet started to ask
about his life yet prior to you, your sister
& your mother
& why should you
my moon faced stranger
all fortune cookies & rice,
straddling two worlds
from birth, a similarity
that in any other life
would make me want to call you
' sister' & forgive everything
Your birth, he
did not deserve, not being a loving
man, as you will find out
once you've grown
out of being a toy
& start to rearrange
the furniture of boundaries
if you should ever find out
about us, my mother & me
& what he did
that will be the time to see
if your heart's worth loving
if so, just call me
I'm leaving you my number
in my mind
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
flipping the pages of the last book you made me read makes me feel like i've been suffering dyslexia for some time now
so hauntingly familiar
not in any way foreign to me
a photo falls so delicately onto my stained rug
the photo i used as a bookmark
the photo of us i've kept hidden
and forgotten
the photo of you handing a couple dollars
to somebody not in the camera's view
the photo with me beside you
gratefully smiling
as i munch on a waffle
the waffle i spit out right after
the photo that reminds me of the horrid taste of that waffle
it's taste almost as bad as what i feel for you
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 5:05 AM UTC
I want to grow a pair of wings
-Sharp, beautiful, majestic ones-
To hold you in and press you tight
inside them, Like the tender silken
roses you sent, That dozed deep in
the pages Of our favourite book,
So I can keep you
For ever.
~
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC