ten cent fine; every day overdue.

running my hand over the spines of everything that makes me feel, whole, here. dust falling back and leading trails; admitting my existence in these finger tip wakes.

 

dirty black smudges becoming titles, stretching and yawning; every opening and reopening, is a new dawn in this place.

 

years from now i will sit upon these shelves, dusty and hardbound. swinging my legs, crossed at the ankles, back and forth like a child. all in a first and last name, combined with a middle initial. my lifes ambitions, for you to hold in the palms of your hands. licking fingers & flipping pages, reading into me exactly the way you need to.

 

 

someday i will remember everything i was meant to become, and all those things i let get in the way; all those obstacles pushing forth, never fitting in, they'll step aside and just allow me to come through.

 

 

a girl built in terrible grammar, simple fonts & incorrect placement of punctuation.

 

but you'll read her, over and over.

your favorite book.

 

because between those hard slats of cardboard and leather, dogeared and marked, are the pages that you needed, all along. that certain chapter; that single line. quoted and written, specifically, for you.

 

 

by me.

Author's Note

grammar is arbitrary on purpose. :)

Reviews

[InkSlinger]

Isn't funny how much we really are like books, our experiences, trials and tribulations, each story written neatly upon the pages in the book of life..

Wonderful read!!

[Claire DS]

interesting style, more like a poem than a story, but I like it