My favorite book, you know,
the one I read over and over again,
the one I never get tired of talking about,
the one with the story that hits me the hardest,
the one that makes me think,
the book I can’t put down
and makes me say
“just one more page”
before I go to bed.

The book that I never want to end.

The cover is brilliantly put together;
colorful, eye catching, yet fragile,
It’s beauty is not only in the cover,
It lies deeper within its contents.
A story so spellbinding it puts
Harry Potter and company to shame.
Pages filled with a love, so magnificent
John Green’s characters can’t compare.
A story and adventure so wildly vast,
not even Jodi Picoult could keep up.

Here’s the dilemma
the book I love most
Is sifted through with a fine tooth comb
when really it does not need to be,
And the worst of this dilemma
Is when I came to the realization that
My favorite book of all,
The one I have read and reread,
scribbling notes in the pages,
memorizing my favorite quotes,
and putting my own heart and soul
into its existence,
is when someone borrows it

and never gives it back.