i could never listen to your voice; my ears could never hallucinate. i could never look at you for so long; my eyes could never hold your gaze. i could never measure your big hands; my fingers and yours could never lace. i could never be in your solid arms; my hands—liquid—could never encircle your waist.
but i think i could be on your mind and i could be written in your heart: if you read the words that i write when you pick up this poem and start.
She realized she was like a novel Born in a world that didn't care to read So she started to hate herself Like a truth amongst lies perceived She was like the hard truth Based on a grimm story Living amongst fake lies Shallow and sweet with a happy ending Surrounded by people Who only read summaries Who couldn't dive deep enough To read her full story So she waits for a person With a long enough attention span A fated reader, with depth similar to her Who can read as much as she can