Saturday, August 27, 2022


 Word Count

Love is a book

Which has exactly 237 pages

I am 51.8% of the way through.

I paid for this book with pennies and dimes

Banked from years of 9 to 5 loneliness 

When I finish, the book will belong to me

And then I will share some of it with you 

I will read it out loud

I will reenact certain passages 

But you won't be able to touch it 

Or even look at it

You will have to get your own

I’ve measured its length and width

And yes it fits perfectly on the bookcase

At home. I can read it as often as I wish

But someone has to cast a spell

In order to turn the page

And something has to happen

To the space around my heart

If I want to understand it well

I'm not explaining it very well

There are things beyond 

The reach of novice pedantry 

Everyone has to read it themselves 

Here’s what they don’t teach:

If you read it just once, it stops being a book

It becomes a dusty space on a shelf

An empty slot where I’d put all my hopes 

A giant tome of everything

That can't be written down 

An absence that is the sum

Of all its words added up


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