Books

It is just better to not have the time

maybe

waiting by the phone another night

maybe

wondering alone if it is worth the try

the five hundred pages book between my hands

the perfect shelter to hide from the world outside

I’ve been inside my room all this time

inside my brain I abide

It is best to fly around like like a busy bee

maybe

waiting for you to move towards me

maybe

keep on writing down what would happen if, if you made up your mind

printed words from strangers, my world now

the perfect intellectual excuse

I’ve been inside my library all this time

in their brain I abide

it is safe, I guess, to pretend I’m not feeling flattered

surly

to pretend I am not curious about your guitars

surly

to keep on assuming it is best to stay away from your warmth

these books I used to read, are not swallowing my loneliness

at least not the whole of it

this choice of living I’ve started questioning somehow

in my brain, in my own brain I finally abide

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