An Open Book Poem by Robin Bennett

I was born as an open book-
out in the open
and honest (though I lie to myself)
A fancy cover
concealing tobacco stained
pages ravaged by
time.

I know you.

Beneath the glasses
and sweater, which failed
miserably to make you look
intelligent, you are still the same.

I read you like a book that day.
Never reading far enough
ahead to see that
you planned to
write me out of
the story.

Remember, I know you.

When it comes to lying,
you are a miserable
failure. You twisted
my words and
made them
fiction.

I've closed the book
on you for good.
You are no longer
part of the story.

You are just a tragic ending.