The Last Library


A dried quill scrapes blood,
Off all white spaces- Marking time
While erasing everything known,
Between the blank untitled bounding's,

The deep purple prose falling,
Off every empty shelves edge,
 She teeters on,
Making slow almost graceful hand movements,
opening blank pages

While sitting on the dirty broken floor,
Watching fluorescent dust chard's of stain glass light,
Reflecting In A midnight "pas de deux",
The nightmare is real,
There is only one blank Binder,
On the last back shelf

Surrounded and intertwined,
In a drab pretest of olive vines,
Dotted with engraved Black Birds,
A little man on the cover is speaking,

What is that- that he is saying?
What language is that?
...A chant?
His eyes covered in golden cloth?

Studying everything about him,
Without eyes,
She Pulls on the attached,
Dark blue ribbon-ed placeholder,
Re-finding any place in his story

..and  as the binder opens...
The engraved Birds Explode!- Off the Binder Cover

@Daniella Nikolayeva; Posted 1/18/2020

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A Horor write

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Starward's picture

A very good horror write!

A very good horror write!


dannigirl933's picture

Thank you Starward. I do dark

Thank you Starward. I do dark poems once and a while I am a big Bram Stroker fan, not just Drak, but he's dark romance Novels. 

Daniella Nikolayeva