My bookshelf

You;

Everything

That this world is not

A bag heavy with love

Constantly on your shoulders

Sprinkle on broken sidewalks

Laughter and a confusion

Belonging to you

Me;
Nothing

Of what I wish to be

Smashed rearview mirrors

And constantly starting over

Playing the same game

With a new dice

My coffin, carefully dressed with secrets

We;

Unknown

Grip, release, dream, forget

A collection of breaths

Jars lined up

Mostly (with)

Yellow tape, your name written in

Blue

Keep filling them up

Or gather dust

This is: chapter one

Pages can still be left blank

A bookshelf holds many li(v)es

But we've only got one