Photo by Johannes Jansson/norden.org via Wikipedia
You bragged about being an open book,
but you hid so much on those pages
between the title and Chapter One.
No one but you would read
those pages anyway, you said.
I kept your secrets like an overdue
library book I borrowed and never returned.
The fine has compounded the steep price
I’ve paid for thumbing through those pages
over and over, so often the type’s faded,
the illustration’s smudged, clouding
what they really mean.
Through these old eyes, though,
our story looks quite different.
You see, I comprehend your secrets better
if I hold you at arm’s length.
Poem #2 of Poem a Day April and NaPoWriMo, a 100-worder. This based on Writers Digest’s prompt, Secrets.