Writers’ Bloc member Isabella Knight imagines love through the analogy of reading
I have never felt what I feel
When you glance sideways at me for barely a second
And a sun bursts under my heart.
And I am aware of every nerve
And every pore
And every atom of my skin.
As though I only exist when I am under your gaze,
As though I am only alive when I can feel your eyes,
As though I am a book that so desperately wants to be read that that it is enough to be merely glanced at.
Because no one has ever opened me before.
So look at my cover,
For just a second
And if you flip me over and read my blurb, I will fall in love with you.
Not because you are the man I always dreamed of,
But because you are the only one who has taken the time to read any of my words.
And if you leave my pages dusty that is okay,
I will wait on my shelf and remember you always
And hope in my heart to see you again
Wandering through the library,
Until the next time you glance at me
Even run your finger along my spine
And then leave.
Or until another takes me from my shelf
And the feel of your eyes will be wiped away
By his fingerprints.
Until my pages are opened at last, and he inhales my dust
Until someone reads each of my chapters,
Because they don’t want me to end.
And I can fall in love with him,
Happily ever after.
But until then,
Let me watch the back of your head,
Look away and pretend I cannot see you.
Ignore me some more.
Glance at me again.
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