Previous Chapters

I could tell you my story.

Especially since
I am now able to look back.
But I’m selfishly enjoying too much
this present.

And I’ve already devoted
so much of my life
trapped in the chapters
riddled with sadness and strife;

the stale stench still makes me
choke,
the dust better left
at rest, that half-book closed.

I feel a bit guilty though.

If I let you read it,
if I let the light of day
shed gold on the yellow,
perhaps it may
help you find the way
to the upcoming blank pages
in which I freshly ink,
like you will too,
upon the pure-white slate
the realities of the dreams
I almost buried, gave away.

Perhaps I will indeed share my story,
verse by verse as poetic allegory,
and you may see what you wish,
and I can remain comfortably hidden

behind the metaphors,
between the lines,
but always reflecting back
for you
beams of light…