Dear Reader,
I give you permission.
I give you permission
to scar the spine
of this book
from the countless
times you will
crack it open.
I give you permission
to highlight
and underline
and doodle
and annotate
these pages
until they have
no room to breathe.
I give you permission
to accidentally
drop
wet
spill on-
backpack-shove
the cover.
I give you permission
to dog-ear the corners
when you've lost
your bookmark
(and your way).
I give you permission
to break in these words
with the same
calamitous,
neurotic,
frenzied
passion with which
I wrote them.
I give you permission
to make this
Poetry your home.
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC
Dear Reader,
I give you permission.
I give you permission
to scar the spine
of this book
from the countless
times you will
crack it open.
I give you permission
to highlight
and underline
and doodle
and annotate
these pages
until they have
no room to breathe.
I give you permission
to accidentally
drop
wet
spill on-
backpack-shove
the cover.
I give you permission
to dog-ear the corners
when you've lost
your bookmark
(and your way).
I give you permission
to break in these words
with the same
calamitous,
neurotic,
frenzied
passion with which
I wrote them.
I give you permission
to make this
Poetry your home.
