Left sitting, staring, left aside
behind the glass doors, neatly bound
and pressed between soft covers.
They would talk to the one passing by.
Be a beacon in the dead of the night
and breathe inside hesitant dreams.
Thought of and pushed away
glanced at, shut away and left alone
no kind words from friend or stranger
Gently, the crisp pages faded
bent under age and dust
until the one left this life
Left dying, the ones who never had a chance
Dead inside the covers, released from
behind the glass, too late. One line.
Once upon a time…
Prompt by a friend, what would happen if you lived alone and nobody checked on you? Perhaps not the best interpretation of said prompt, but I had fun writing this. Happy NaPoWriMo!