Messages from the past.
(I question why I haven’t been here before).
Shelves stretch all the way to the back –
dust swirls in the air
I could stay here forever.
(I passed it every day).
The smell of ink
Stronger, the scent of old bindings
The glue that holds them together is gone.
(It peeled off years ago).
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.