I'm just a story unread,
a dusty old book
left untouched on a shelf,
all yellowing,
with pages worn and frayed,
and frayed heartstrings to match.

You're just a boy,
who fervently flicks
through hundreds of stories,
without much thought
as to how the story ends
once you've tossed your copy aside.

If you wanted, I'd let you flip me open
at the chapter of your choice,
so you could pour over my pages,
devour the details,
and enter my story,
even just for a page or two.

I'm not asking you
to make the purchase, I know
this place is full
of stories better told,
with heroines more beautiful
and brave than I.

Just hold me momentarily,
reach out,
stroke my spine,
scan through my clumsy narrative,
let me hold your attention
for just a few minutes.

You can leave your smudgy fingerprints
on my blank, white spaces
and then you can shut my cover,
toss me aside,
back on the shelf and let the dust
gather on me once more.