You were left open
dusty, a bit tattered
like a book that has
perhaps,
spent too many days
on some forgotten shelf

I like to think
I was gentle

I like to think
I made an effort

I swallowed
what I could
& fell 5 stories to your spine


Could you feel my hands
trembling
as I turned the page ?

Perhaps,
I skipped to the end.

I certainly missed
the ******,
and never got the plot

Oh but I feel regret
for my impatience

You slammed shut.
I had papercuts
on the tips of my fingers


Somehow,
despite the words on pages,
the volumes read,
I feel only ever illiterate