My Book

Where do you bed when the wind is blowing
Where do you cry when the rain falling
Where do you fall when there is no hill
Where do you rise when you have only will

It started between your heart and mine
It became the ultimate divine
It was fed in our matter of time
It is still on the shelf between body and rhyme

Your finger prints are sill on each of its folds
Your lipstick is still printed on them in bold
Your breasts imprinted on them are bestowed
Your unconscious mind holding words to be told

Your heart and mine since then have lost their spines
There has been no more flipping through these folds
No thoughts of these memories from your mind calling
Stuck here as refuse, gaining time only from the landfill

The adventures of My Book

Word count: 139