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- "Book"
You may not have read
This book that I hold,
Of the memories I’ve made
And the stories I’ve told.
Like a butterfly in a cocoon,
Each page would unfold,
Every word that I’ve said,
Every thought in my head,
And your words written in bold.
You may not have read
This book in my hand,
For the words are too complex,
You wouldn’t understand.
My hopes and my dreams,
And that time that we danced,
I wrote it all down,
It was something I chanced.
But I will tear out the pages
And throw it in the fire,
In the very same flame
Which once lit my desire.
The stars in the skies
Couldn’t compare to your eyes,
And that I will always admire.
Do you see all these ashes
Spread on the ground?
The pages are all gone,
The words make no sound.
The secrets untold,
And the frustrations paroled,
Are never again to be found.
They’re all in my head
And not on paper.
But you haven’t read
This book that I’ve burnt
Of the things that we were
And the things that we weren’t
A check to your list
A chance that you’ve missed
A lesson we both have learnt.
- sunflower.
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- This is my original poetry - please do not steal this.
