Odd in a poem about reading

there are no books.

Just faces and faces and faces.

All telling a lie or a story

eye to eye

cheeks like titles

brows our bible

showing gospel truths

we eat it up. Whole foods.

 

Faces like pages I read them all day

 

Sad.

Lonely.

Happy.

Hopeful.

 

Full of laughter. Full of pain.

Full of hope. Everything to gain.

 

We all tell our story,

Even when we hide

When we can't, we divide.

We stride

Taking steps to avoid.

Put locks on the diary.

Clamp shut no buts.

Closed and alone?

 

No

 

I know who has the key.

They read faces and faces and faces.

I choose them

They choose me,