The little evidences of you fascinate me.
On my journey through
Someone else's words
I trip over your underlines and coffee stains.
Stumble and pause,
Wonder what you were doing or thinking
When you dogeared the page.
I don't know what that is.
Fascination, I guess.
I don't even know you.
I don't even know what I want from you.
But the proof that you held this book
Before I did
Captivates me.
What does it mean, that circled word,
To you? Words are so...
Personal.
They hold so many memories,
Such different thoughts
For everyone who reads them.
I find, as I excavate the loved pages of this book,
That I want in.
In
To your head, your heart.
I want to see your naked soul
In an offguard moment,
Before you can decide what and
What not
To show me.
As I travel the lines your pen has traced before
My fingers,
I want to know what made you put them there.
I want to know who you are.
And
More importantly, perhaps,
Why
I want to know who you are.