You read me like a your favorite book
Its pages though faded and torn,
Their creases familiar to the touch of your fingers
Its cover over time scuffed and worn.

But to you these marks as rather than flaws
Badges which have been dutifully earned
By the steady attention of your hands
My every habit or pattern you’ve learned.

Even when I feel as though you’re not watching
Your gaze is steadily on me,
Allowing me to socialize independently
While keeping me within the safety of your reach
With the ability to reach in and rescue me
Should ever the situation arise.

You pick me up as one does their favorite book,
With loving care in their touch,
Being mindful of those scars which have left their mark
Leaving be those places tender to me
And those you handle even more gingerly
Helping me to see, that I can trust your touch.

You read me like your favorite book,
Carefully studying my stories,
Reading deeply into the words,
Understanding my failures and glories.
But even as I fear you will
You never judge me, even still
You hold me tightly and kiss me until
I believe I’m still your favorite story.

And even as you read me again,
Same conversation, just a different day
You remind me in several different ways
That you treasure and protect me,
Very much in the same ways,
That one treats their favorite book.

Gracie
07/16/2015