The Shelves of Time

I wonder if but I should fade
would you remember yesterday
and let the distance wash away
the battered space in time.
I tried to cut you off back then,
but here you are, Librarian,
relentless in my dreams again
you never fade with time.
I think back on the days, alas,
a cavalcade of us in masks
trade bladed grass for broken glass,
the sharpened cuts of time.
I tried to think as if you’d died
to tell the world “I’ll be fine,”
you whispered in my dreams, “You lied,”
a lesson learned in time.
Shackled to the past, enslaved
when here at last had I felt brave;
if I should find an early grave
will I see you in time?
I built a world not too loud
on pages where my thoughts enshroud…
I only hope that you’d be proud
of how I’ve passed the time.