I pressed my soul somewhere
between the pages
of this book,
Like the most delicate of flora
we seek to preserve –
It’s a favorite of mine.
I wrote the stories
of my heart
into its chapters
the ink’s bled deep
into its fibers…
I can recite every word
from memory
and recall
my favorite phrases and passages;
Sometimes with laughter
other times with tears.
But it means nothing to you,
my horcrux,
because when you open it,
the pages are blank
and dry
and you don’t understand
the entire universe you’re missing out on
by not reading between
the lines you can’t see.
My book of light
doesn’t shine very brightly
in the fog –
it’s only a beacon
that burns away the darkness within
The shadows I vanquished long ago.
You’ll remain illiterate
if you obscure yourself in
the fading light
of others’ daydreams…
Misgivings always haunt
our nightmares.
Didn’t you know
reading in the dark
is bad for your eyes?
Kayfucius 