a librarian

there once was a boy

who loved words

and only those

one

or side by side

a curvacious gathering

of letters

ink upon parchment

the scent thrilled him

to the bone

in the crosses of t's

and swirls of a's and o's

he believed to be the only comfort

and through the dotted i's

could only express feelings

could only impress

imprint

thoughts to the world around him

but she

could tell stories

behind closed lids

and in oceans of color

reveal a plethora

utopia

of raw emotion

that even the parchment

dirtied with ink

smeared with leafing thumbs

could never utter