Wet books

Wet Booksfantasy-2912873_1280

That smell of wet books and Chanel no 5
is no invitation
There are no arms open
stiff I freeze
Under my soles is the threshold
A cold door knob damp in my palm
Dead echoes haunt from behind
“Vanity!” they scream
A million hands reaching to save me from their sins
fingers grasping at my clothing
If only they would just listen
“hear me out!”
It’s no use their minds are with moons and times
sloshed together creating the great divide
“I’ll have no part!” I yell
stepping in
door closed behind
I’ll have no part that whisper left my mouth
slipping to the ground
I’ll have no part.

 

-Saschia Johnson


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