he smelled like a used bookstore to me
like the smell of pages
that has been passed through
generations and generations
and picking that book off that shelf
and opening its rough pages
to get a small glimpse of a world
yet to be discovered
beckoning to be discovered
that I would claim as mines
I put a bilge to it
i knew how to take control of my mind
shape it
tame it
become it
and I was its choice too
because it was mines
when it was in my hands
and I was its choice too.
-Mary of silence
instagram follow @addiction_nd_poetry
©rose99
R