The Librarian

He started to woo her in the most peculiar way
The librarian’s dress was a fawner shade of grey
The books he was to borrow he would surely never read
They had an intellectual calibre he hoped that she would see
He planned to take her home to bed some day
He’d smooth her goosebumped skin while she lay
But the unspoken thing they both knew
Whilst he’d dream of her often
She would forget in just ten minutes
Her beauty has not truly been seen until her beauty’s been seen by his tired
eyes
Her tears have not truly been dried until her tears have been dried on his
tired shirtsleeves
He’s beginning to irritate so she made him go away
The smallest cruellest insult she ignored his subtle ways
The deathly silence let him know his efforts were in vain
Did the words ever exist, and if so, could he find them?
He planned to take her home to bed some day
He’d smooth her goosebumped skin while she lay
But the unspoken thing they both knew
Whilst he’d dream of her often
She would forget in just ten minutes
Her beauty has not truly been seen until her beauty’s been seen by his tired
eyes
Her tears have not truly been dried until her tears have been dried on his
tired shirtsleeves
Her body has not truly been stripped until her clothes have been ripped by his
nailbitten fingers
Her beauty has not truly been seen until her beauty’s been seen by his tired
eyes
And oh, all the loneliest of nights, when he never held her tight,
he will never kiss her eyelids (x4)