The book in you

I want to read you like a book, page by page, taking in all your wonders and miseries. I want to know the characters in your story, the reason behind your scars and why you do what you do.

If I could have a week with you, reading your pages inside out, I would want to take you to my favorite antique store- I have a few that you might like – and I would buy you scented candles. We could go to the beach, where you can teach me something new, or out into the wild night where I will teach you how to catch fireflies without hurting them.. We would drink tea. Endless hours of drinking plain tea without sugar because that is how tea is supposed to be drunk. I would teach you the waltz, and you can teach me how to swim. If you like. You would have a smoke and stroke my hair, and I would curl up at your hip and watch the smoke make shapes above our heads. We could go to a party, and be as loud and immature as we wanted, barely making eye contact because we’re too busy talking to other people. But if that’s too much, we could stay at home, cuddle each other and read aloud. If that’s too much, we could just be naked, and sweat, and explore each other, learning each others movements, like novice swimmers learning the way of the water, respecting its ways and learning to breathe.

But if that’s too much, we could just forget one another, and go back to being ourselves because that’s what we do after we read a really good book.


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