Untold stories
I wish I could tell you
All that fills my mind
but instead I’ll write,
In these pages where they’ll stay confined
Forever locked away in a library full of stories
Neatly shelved apart in quiet categories
Different genres of books,
All containing your name
Holding within those pages,
Truths my voice could never claim
Sonnets to your eyes
Odes to your laugh
In the hopes that these poems,
may speak on my behalf
But words are just ink on a page,
With no speaker,
these words are left hollow
And begin to age
Pages wither as the ink slowly fades
The covers of each book looking
more and more decayed
So I’ll grab a book from this wilted shelf
Turning the pages,
Of every feeling I’ve ever felt
Uttering words that were waiting to scream and yell
Finally telling the stories I could never tell