"If Books Could Speak"

“If Books Could Speak”

Am I your friend?

You could have glanced at me on a corner,
then pierce a smile,
a big, wide, smile
fading in the next few seconds.

You may have known my name
and get some details on my face,
then remember the latter
rather than the former.

You must have felt bad after knowing
how eager I am
to build walls for my solace,
but please let me do what I ought to do.


I am the infamous art
and
you are the masterpiece.

I want to go
into the depths of your soul,
seek for your weakest core
and look for the seamless bond in you.

Please,
be cognizant
of how I value the silences,
pauses,
and swift moves.


Is it right to question your companionship
if you are only talking to me at your convenience?
Or should I say, boredom?
Sort of.


It’s a strange feeling
how you always see me as the light
in your darkest days,
but who am I in your brightest days?

Perhaps a shadow.

Merely a shadow.


Could you treasure me once more?

Could you still look at me the way you look at them?

Could you no longer hear my deepest secrets?


Have I told you
how I see yourself
in the mirror of my existence?


‘Cause if you see me as an alive being
in the dreads
of long,
old-fashioned space,
let me ask you a multitude of times,

“Am I your friend?”