What is in a book that makes you turn its pages so swiftly?
Each word you taste and feel and it is almost as though it licks back or warms you and buries itself like a sliver of lost bark and festers into a fever that renders you sick but the pain urges you on and you delve deeper, so deep as to almost finger the ink off its pages and when the cover is closed the spine creaks, withering a thin line to mark where you held it most. The condition of it is worn but beautiful in one strange mixture like the way love of a human being is on another person.
YOU ARE READING
INTRiCATE SiMPLiCITY
PoetryA collection of my poetry. This is the part where I give somewhat of a Disclaimer: If these are too deep for you, it is because when these were written I was in a dark place. But a place nonetheless, no matter how dark, it did seem to set me free...
