You paused to look at me as if you were browsing a book shelf
and your fingers brushed ever so slightly across my skin
hesitating, lingering, at my spine.

Then you chose me
you laid me down and opened me up
it wasn’t easy because not many have read me before.

Your eyes looked me up and down, side to side
taking it all in,
engorging yourself.

You licked your fingers before you turned my pages
for a steadier and more meaningful grasp.
You said paper cuts were pretty
and that they were safe with you.

But then,
you read something you didn’t like
slammed the book shut
and shoved it back on the shelf.