if this life is a library, we're sure quiet now

if this life is a library, we’re sure quiet now

lives passing by
have started to remind me,
of borrowed people
i no longer see.

like a spill of yesterdays,
leaking from a walled-up
history.

pressed up spine to spine,
for a time,
we were dusty volumes
no one cares to mine,
all that often.

eventually,
we all shelved each other.

as a lover
became a girlfriend,

and a girlfriend,
became a friend,

and a friend,
became the soft, sad
ticking of an end.

eventually,
everyone ends up looking the same.

cloaked beneath dust sheets;
each a shapeless tome.

like rooms,
where i never found home.