Book vs Bookmark
I opened a book to escape the noise,
But it opened me instead,
Spilling thoughts I never spoke,
In words I never said.
The pages knew my hidden storms,
They read me line by line,
And somewhere between what was written and felt,
I lost the sense of time.
Then quietly slipped a fragile soul,
A bookmark, worn yet wise,
Not to hold a place in the story alone,
But to pause my scattered skies.
It lived in the space of almost and maybe,
Of endings that feared to start,
Pressed gently between a moment and memory,
Like a secret against the heart.
I left it there on a trembling page…
Where something was meant to be,
If you find it, don’t just close the book…
Finish that story for me.
R