This Closed Book

 My eyes will compose entire novels of the most vibrant fantasies
But only to hold those fantasies inside of a closed book that I call my mind.
This closed book contains all of my obscurest nights 
Along with all of my most vivacious memories.
This closed book holds all of my insecurities and perfections.
This closed book hides my features using a theater mask 
That I got when I was three.
This closed book will form an emotion that isn't real 
And plant it wherever.
This closed book will hide all of my scars from the world
And say “it's okay. Just be strong.”

I keep this book closed because I worry
That if I open it- just for one moment, someone might get hurt.
The stories I keep barred away in the book are both dark and full of beauty.
They are enchanted by the belief that if nobody knows…
It’s not even there.
My hands ache from handwriting in this book
That I keep locked, chained, and sealed away
In a box inside my head.
I only take the book out when I have too. 
The book stays locked away until those times at night
When it's just me and nobody else.
Each page is stained with my sadness.
Each page is numbered in my blood.

The book sets my days according to moonlight.
It steals me away to a better place that does not exist.
The book will lure me closer using lovers’ tales and trolls.
This closed book confines me inside every time I try to walk away.
Please beware!
This book is toxic.
This closed book feeds off of false smiles and broken tears.
This closed book will be the death of me…
If I am ever to die at all.