i want to be the book

i want to be the book
you pass by in the shop
on a shelf you’ve never explored
sitting amongst the stories
that take time
to ingest,
books with dents
in their spine,
books that carry marks
of former handlers
who returned them
to the dusty shelf
when the story asked the reader
to give something of themselves,
to sacrifice a piece of their soul
to make room for all
the beautiful,
bent,
worn down
hope
the story has to give.

i want to be that book
that catches your eye
on this tucked away shelf,
that makes you stop and
need to touch the cover,
to smell the journey
seeped into its pages,
to run your finger
down the spine,
across the lettering,
upon its skin,
to take it home
so you can be near it,
so it can be near you,
as you work up the courage,
the willingness,
to submit to your desire
to dive beneath its covers.

i want to be the book you read
long ago
that never left you,
that changed you,
that made you different
for simply having tasted
the story,
for having held it
in your careful hands,
for having whispered words
so delicate,
that you never whispered again.