I wish books could be my recluse
Like a library to passionate readers
Looking for meaning in every word
To help them unravel the love inside
But the scent of an old book
Reminds me of you
In all the torn edges across pages
That you once graced with your palms
Perforations where letters appear hollow
Smudged ink upon its corners
Where you wrote notes for me
In your pretty handwriting
As much as I try to escape all of it
I'm once again reminded of you
And then I walk
Wander into the still library of tranquil memories
Where we once held hands
And shared embraces
Where our eyes met with intensity
I look for meaning in every word like the readers
Every glance of yours
Inscribed across my heart, deeper every hour
I'm reminded of the anguish we once shared
And the care, too
Being away from one another
Once you think of me upon a solitary night
You'll know that I'll be reading you
Like you're my favourite book
Except it ends
And leaves me pained every time
I think that is the beauty of a good read
As well as the tragedy, too