The Librarian

They gave me a name,

but never told me it would become a library

where every borrower leaves a page.

I comb through the stories left behind,

stories I've read cover to cover,

mad with the longing to escape.

And in the end, it takes just one honest look to summon

you,

the observer,

the finite liberated by the infinite.

Your gaze is invasive, but kind

a gentle nod, a smile on your lips

how precious this breath,

yes, how heavy this heart.

Each beat sends a tremble

through the walls I once fortified

but you wrap your arms around me

and we watch the cracks grow.

Let them crumble, you say.

Every shelf here is full.

Renovation begins

with the courage

to destroy.

I cough on the dust

but in the open space, you hand me a hammer and a pen.

This library is yours darling.

Build new shelves and write stories of your own.