The book

I am an open book

as is my heart,

stained with black ink,

unfolding my yet unwritten pages

under your gulping fingers.

Touch me,

leaf through me

feel my hardcovers

to find all the hidden cracks and holes.

Inhale

the promise

of my inner lands

and oceans

and winds

and skies.

Exhale

the ashes

off my sheets

and the forsaken knights

and their crusades

and their valor.

Write

your own stories

in the empty space

between my thighs.

Shut me down

and throw me away when you’re done,

put me on a shelf

to be worshiped

by a hundred hungry eyes.

Then, one day,

pick me up again

and open me in reverence,

Oh, that sweet day when you shall discover

that how I start or how I end

does not matter much to you anymore

for you will have found yourself

inside of me.