A Note Between the Pages

I found your words between the paper grain;

A folded secret in the quiet rain;

Ink in your handwriting, small and brave;

Like someone leaving light inside a cave;

The library hummed with a desolate grace;

And I traced your silence across the page;

You said if you read this, don't turn away;

Some things are meant to be found this way;

And it felt like a door in the dark;

A spark in the hush of my heart;

Well, we don't know if they changed everything;

Like spring after a season of staying;

If you were whispered, I heard;

If you were met, I followed the words;

A bookmark slept where the chapters split;

Like you had planned the exact place for it;

I saw a date then a line half-smashed;

A promise shaped like a thought too much;

Were you a stranger, a lover, a ghost?

A name

I once knew and forgot the most;

You said if you read this, don't turn away;

Some things are meant to be found this way;

And it found like a door in the dark;

A spark in the hush of my heart;

One little note, but it changed everything;

Lights ping after a season of staying;

If you were whispered, I heard;

If you were bound, I'd follow the words;

So I waited by the shelves at five;

Between old poems and borrowed lies;

Hoping your shadow would softly appear;

Like the rest of your story was still somewhere near;

And if you come back,

I'll know what to say;

I've been learning your silence page by page;

And it felt like a door in the dark;

A spark in the hush of my heart;

One little note, but it changed everything;

Like spring after a season of staying;

If you were western, I heard;

If you were mad,

I followed the words I had written on;

And a borrowed book;

That's all it took;

For my world to look;

A little less lost;

A little more mine;