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And so she cried,
To be wanted- loved.
To find hands to caress and hold her up,
To wash her face and love her spine
Bound in skin and leather- stare
To fold her paragraphs, to hold each leaf.

Letters fair and finding want:
Set in stare, sat upon
To sit and wait for her young man fair
She was waiting there.

Need for one;
To open and look
To: Inside her soul; to be her rook.

And in time...
As it stole-
(As it does)
Brought dust and dirt and careless love,
Broken crystal sphere dream
Never came the true one-
Seemed to ignore her there-
She: Unseen.
He: always there, but never was.

He: wanting not for foot
Never placed it near her root
And was; and not, in time and trace.

And still forever longing was she-
To partake of him
He: His countenance to grace.

Fair moon, fair moon!
Dim and waning
Waning- winding
"This tear so great, my pages scarce."
Wished this one:
For now, forever foreign touch.

And called for me on that eve
I heard her cry
To her I went- I walked, every step wider and wider stride
Motives unknown, childlike in snout
Left judgement at foothold of her home.
I grasped her- her spine
I her loving debutante
And she with me to strike
The dusty and forgotten road.

Perhaps in time I too may give
A story of my own journey amiss,
But for now...she: I am devoted
To finding her, her place
For her to find a careful hand
To care for her to-
Love each ampersand.

Love each stroke of her lips,
To know each page from her diary- that now does drip.
A lonely life of a book on a shelf.
I took the lonelyness of human life and thought of a book: If you ever visit a library, you'll notice that there are thousands of books, hundreds- begging to be read. There are humans- that are just begging to be read in this life too.

FINV "Gwendolyn." v6 (6/12/17-7/2/17) - by Evi Dent Halo

P.s. this is honestly one of the poems that I am most proud of
 Nov 2017 Vishvi Aurora
Mentally selfish.
Emotionally broken.
Physically scared.
The devils token.

Slaughter of happiness.
****** of hearts.
Strictly demented.
Your torn apart.

Pain as satisfaction.
Madness is all’s strength.
A want to give up.
But you’ve left it to faith.

— The End —