ribbed, but uncaged,
you read like a book broken,
with a cracked spine, snapped,
always opening to
the same page
the wrinkles stacked
dendritically, along the
ragged column, show
where you were split,
down the seam,
in a fervent attempt
to be figured out
your leaves are worn,
dog eared, and torn,
with words used, and
defiled
unadorned,
sickly souls
forlorn figures,
sitting silently
wishing and waiting,
no kissing or playing
it seems that you've left me,
and you're all I want to read