Our hands’ fingers
tangle and tango

dancing up and down
spines of books in the
crooks of our arms,
the volumes sitting
waiting on the shelves,
quivering with the
desire to be opened.

I want to be a book beneath your hands,
inviting you to leaf through my pages,
feel your fingers run along my favorite lines,
left laid open on your nightstand
ready to be read
over and over again.

2 thoughts on “book

  1. best last stanza. that would be the deepest pick up line if extracted from this poem for that sole purpose but that’d be lame. i hate pick up lines. but i like your lines?

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