Silent Screams

Silent Screams

by Shaun Mather

How did it feel, when I turned your pages?

Did the lingering touch of my fingertips fill you with joy?

Lust?

My touch caressing your spine,

Caressing your words.

How did it feel, to have me learn all about you?

To flick back and forward,

Hearing the scratches of notes off to the side.

Did it fill you with desire?

Anger?

Anger at me, looking inside you and discovering your secrets?

What was it like, when I closed you for the last time?

The thud of your bound pages colliding.

Never to be open again by my touch.

Did it make you sad, knowing I was done with you?

Your roll fulfilled, returned to your crypt.

Was that final touch cold?

When the librarian placed you into your resting place?

With the hours turning to days,

Days to weeks,

Weeks to months,

Months to years?

The desire to be touched once again rising,

The dust upon your pages rising.

The rage inside you rising,

As the books around you move.

Rage turning to hatred.

Hatred towards your crypt,

Hatred towards your keepers,

Hatred towards me.

Hoping that one day,

I may set you free.

Hoping that I would return,

And set you free.

Hoping my touch would return,

Lingering across your spine,

Flicking through your pages,

Caressing your words.

To take you home, and make you mine.

To give you the freedom you desire.

But, what if I were to set you on fire

Would you scream?

Feeling betrayed,

Feeling hated.

Or would you let the flames lick at your pages, 

Hiding your secrets?

Perhaps you started the fire yourself. 

A burning scream for help.

Attention.

The desire to be read once again, fanning the flames higher.

Your ashes going against your true intent.

For you can no longer be held.

No longer be loved.

No longer be read.

The ashes floating up towards the bright sky.

Silent screams.