You would think I’d want to be loved like a bestseller;
That I would want to be wanted desperately,
Taken and tucked under his arm,
Held close underneath, his biggest secret as he passes the gates
Eager to have me no matter the cost
To read my every page like I had the cure to his pain.
Or that I would want to be on the shelves of a large library;
That he would ask where to find me
In the section Recommended
Once found, he would ignore my folded corners
And pen marks left by anti-Picassos
He’d notice the missing page or two, torn from my spine
And search for it
And highlight worded strengths,
Studying me
But no.
No thank you, Thieving Lover
Your insatiable palms will always itch for more
Once you’re through with me,
I’d be nothing more than a door stopper
While you use what you got from me to find better.
No thank you, Learned Lover
You may know me better than most
But your quest has not taught you how to love
Once you’re done with me,
You’ll return me to my place on the shelf
Only to be used again.
Neither would love me long enough for my love to mature.
Both lack tenacity,
Of which I’d only blame myself for.
No.
I’d rather be the book on the shelves of your mother’s house;
And feel at home on your fingertips
Even if I’d only be found on Spring Day,
When your attention is off the vixens on the screen
You’d sit under the late afternoon sun,
Drinking your second glass into adulthood
Flipping through my pages written in pink sunset ink
And fall in love with the warrior-crowned-queen
For taming the dragon that held her hostage
Through her own reflection.
Read me and understand
Love me and love me more
Add pages of yourself into me;
Giving birth to a new story
That we’ll leave on the shelves of our home
Until the day your son can reach it
Until the day your daughter asks about it
The day they find out how to love.