The Stories We Tell by Rae Iolene

The Stories We Tell

Sometimes, I imagine the books talk.

And I think they would be rather mean. 

At least at night.

I would shut off the lights and sleep.

The grimoires would rise from their graves.

Angry.

Desolate. 

Hungry.

Their personalities not quite matching the book cover, or genre.

Yet, here I am, fighting insomnia, fighting racing thoughts and 

hearing, The Princess Diaries tell Shakespear to “pick on someone his own size!”

xx. Rae Iolene 

24 April 2026