Love and Heartbreak

Books

You were the reader.

I, the book.

You underlined parts of me I didn't think

any reader noticed.

Your hands tread over my torn pages,

Admiring the beauty of my story

Rather than my plain appearance.

But just as all readers do,

Just as I suspected you to,

You finished reading me

And placed me back on my shelf

To be covered with dust

And to be stained

And to be traced by other hands

And to be read by other eyes

But never again like the way you read me.

StarGiirl96