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The Unread BookYou only see the outline
Please take a closer look
I am the silhouette
I am the unread book
Letters and words within me
Arranged in such a way
This narrative keeps the readers eyes fixed
To the words that I say
Evoking an array of emotions
From the first page to the last
Keep you from putting me down
Chapter to paragraph
Heroes and heroines
Acting out in fictional arenas
Facts and figures educate
And quench lifes thinkers and dreamers
The feel of my page on your fingers
The scent that lies within
They judge me on my appearance
Before the first chapter even begins
So I remain on the shelf
Slowly gathering dust
Nowadays they rarely look beyond my cover
I am the unread book
Rejection. It hurts.
It cracks your soul.
It burns your heart
until nothing is left.
But just one?
Just a single rejection?
Can it possibly do that to you?
No, it cannot.
To burn a heart
and destroy a soul
it takes dozens
dozens of rejections
But even that is not enough.
Laughter and ridicule
hurt the most.
Then, you shut out the world.
You build up emotional walls.
You do whatever is necessary
to protect yourself.
To protect yourself from the pain.
To never experience it again.
To keep your heart and soul intact.
To protect, but not to rebuild.
You build the barrier to protect yourself.
You never rebuild yourself.
You let your heart sit in misery.
Broken almost beyond repair.
The ashes of your heart
and the pieces of your soul
lay on the ground forever.
And one day you get tired of it.
You decide to rebuild.
As you begin to rebuild
you let the walls you built crumble.
The walls degrade and slowly fall.
As the rebuild commences
you start to feel
Mind, oh MindSmiley face, smiley face, can't you ever see?
So much to be sad about, so much that could be
Going wrong for everyone, going wrong for you.
Smiley face, smiley face, don't you feel it too?
Sad face, sad face, can't you ever tell?
So much could be going great, going oh so well
Sad face, sad face, can't you ever see?
Life is spend much better when your thinking thoughts of glee.
Mind, oh mind, why can't you agree?
Thinking everything at once is slowly killing me...
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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