365 Poems: July 28th, 2014

Real Girl; No Name

Author’s Grave

You walk into a room of suitors

chained together, walls so tight

and you alone can give them peace but

only one– today, tonight.

And they all yell, say, “Look at me!”

“The fairest king of far and wide!”

But you do not care of their looks,

you only care for what’s inside.

Though soon you see him, faded grey:

a ghost of time and stars above

but in cracked spines, pages you see

that now forgotten was once loved.

So you take home your legends cared

and read in flashlight, blankets drawn

’til you go back to author’s grave.

Though dead, the story’s never gone.


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