I love you in that place

Between parallel landscapes

Of book spines

Pressed together as though

Cold

They shiver

 

Walls of words

Of long nights

Pulling thoughts

Like screaming children from the mud

Turned beautiful

Rinsed by sterile type

Some escape as fumes

Lost to the night

Not good enough

 

The rest are held between

Glossy covers

Colorful pillars and irregular lines

Among them, my own

Put me on a shelf

With words

Pounding

Against

Me

So loud I shake

 

Words should not be stifled

In books

Or in me

Binded without a trace

Of muddy footprints

 

But I must keep them

In that place where I love you

So only I hurt

And we are spared

From everything

Folded in unforgiving paper

 

And somewhere in the night

The rest sigh loudly

Knowing all too well

What you never will