A Book I Shall Not Read

You were real in my sleep
Like a paperback on a shelf you stood still
I approached you, my heart making waves and reflections
My cheeks smelled of Spring, the trees in my eyes, the roses on my lips
And your hands look like Autumn, the dirt in your hair, the honey leaves on your lashes
We could have run away and crawled inside a house of grass
Our eyes would have turned into a million shades of emerald
Our shadows would have danced with the moonlight on still waters
But like a paperback on a shelf, you stood still
And when I pulled you from the rest and turned a single page
You left paper cuts on the tips of my fingers
So I tucked you away between a tragedy and a fairytale
And woke up with sore hands, the smell of Spring deep in my sheets.

© Crystal Ball