The Paperweight on the Bookshelf

TW: SA

​

A knock on a familiar door

opens up memories

of riding through the trailer park

trying to find the clues.

The door opens

I see a familiar face,

Though a bit taller, older

Irritation turned to recognition

Turned to a familiar joyous greeting

​

The bedroom had grew into a study

Large prestigious bookshelves

Packed with novels, hardbacks

From Sherlock to Bella

From murder to love.

A large paperweight with a quill

And parchment inside

Sit on the shelf dedicated

To the boy who lived

​

“Sit,” he says, “I'm nearly done”

And so, I sit on his bed

Gawking at the collections

Of King and of Poe

Shakespear and of Homer.

I focus on the paperweight.

His pen dashed across the page,

Quickening with every second.

He places the pen like a gentleman.

Turns around to start the small talk.

I inquire about the assembly

“It passes the time.”

​

A familiar flame flickered in his dark eyes.

A predator has found his prey.

He stands up and sits on the bed

Ensuring our legs touch.

I quickly scoot away.

“You’re so handsome now”

He whispers as his fingers pass over my jeans

A familiar fear comes alive inside.

I must leave, now.

​

I attempt to stand up,

Pulling me by my belt loop

He pulls me back down.

“Lay down”, he whispers

ensuring his mother can’t hear.

“I learned something new”

Terrified, speechless, I agree.

His hands raise my dirty shirt

Fingers write something into my young stomach.

“I’m nearly graduated, I'll leave for college soon”

Nearly five years my senior,

But the fearful hold like a prison guard

I feel my pants unbutton.

​

I look to the paperweight, to the books it guards.

Accio, I imagine the paperweight flying,

The quill riding parchment like a knight

on his horse prepared to joust

But all I do is lay on my back

With a lance stuck in my leg

Warmth comes between my hips

I can smell the hunger on his bleated breath.

“You’re becoming a man now it seems”

Fingers wrap around me.

​

I stare at the paperweight on the bookshelf

Hoping it can see what this friend is doing to me

Protect me, like you do his college application.

Protect me, like you do his beloved novels and poems.

For I’ve not the strength to stand up

​

He removes his hand, done with me.

I stand up, buttoning my pants.

I look at the bookshelves, the novels

The epics of poetry.

The paperweight sits there,

Guarding the dragon’s hoard

While leaving the skeletons of innocence

Inside this haunted room

​

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