#WritcoPoemPrompt16
The pages of my old book,
Hold my memories of yesterday,
Every smile, every tear,
Every person who came my way...
lt was all a lesson needed to shape my today.
l constantly visit the old pile of my written past to clean the gathered dust,
Peruse the old pages with fading ink just to find my smile.
It's all just history of anguish written with a bleeding pen bereft of any emotions to transport me back to an old me's time.
l couldn't stand the spinning cycle so l neglected the merry-go round.
l couldnt stand the grease tarnishing my suit so l neglected the old truck that ruin my manicure for desperate needs for transport.

The pages of my old book,
l find myself drawn to them like a moth to a candle.
Craving to hear the voice of an authour l once inspired to portray art with vengeful intent.
Killing every modicum of hope rewritting farewells with skillful metaphors hiding the suicide note with applauded talent.
What a massive burden to task a mind with tools to suffer such pernance and point a finger of blame to the imaginary injustice of the world.

The pages of my old book;
A mirror reflecting my perpetuated imperfection.
l drop a tear of regret but l guess that rough path was needed to pave smoother roads.
l turn the pages occasionally to see the fade eating away the meaning behind every letter,
l am a coward to see them suffer the ravenous devourment of poor flames awaiting such a banquet.
The pages of my old book are meaningless moments of wasted barrels of ink l keep to remind myself that my past has no hold on me.
Another moment,another life,another story....
Of wisdom l have in store today..



© luisRupende