i am a novel
in the library of the world,
whose pages full of stories
are not meant to be unfurled...
i sit quietly
in the lowest shelves
watching visitors unravel
stories of other novels,
and yet
i remain a novel,
my chapters growing
with years and age
spanning genres
and cliches, and themes
that never in my dreams
would i achieve
until i become
a masterpiece, worth
the bestseller's list
yet i remain
in the lowest shelves,
gathering dust,
as my author refuses
that her life be unfurled
(3.20.18)
YOU ARE READING
reconsideration.
PoetryWhat a thrill to be a thought: thin as a film strip, thrust into a cacophony. Yet it's funny how I've met my loneliness as a friend. I've searched for my soul in heated hands and histories, token treasures and stolen homes. All that came was a hollo...
